


Across the Bridge of Sighs

by deanstheman



Series: Tasha Series [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Also Bobby Ellen and Jo, OFC Tasha, Real Plot - rated E for the handfulf sex scenes and mature themes, The Campbells - Freeform, crowley - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-21
Updated: 2014-02-02
Packaged: 2018-01-05 10:03:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 136,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1092599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deanstheman/pseuds/deanstheman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU-S6. Things go sideways and Sam & Dean find themselves on the wrong side of the fight. Do the members of Team Free Will now pose a bigger threat to the people they love than Crowley and his demons?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One Week from Now...

**CHAPTER 1 - _One week from now…_**

The motel room was seedy, even by Winchester standards. Puke green, water-stained wallpaper adorned three of the walls but that was a step up from the cheap, wood paneling nailed haphazardly on the fourth. The original color of the carpet was indiscernible but it appeared now to be an unsightly shade of rust, though that was probably more an effect of the constant flickering of red through the shabby drapes from the neon 'vacancy' sign outside. There was no noise save the uneven thrum of the cheap ceiling fan above and the musty air was rank with the stale stench of liquor and sex.

Dean Winchester sat on the end of the bed in silent misery, elbows on his knees and his head hung low in shame. He stole a quick glance over his shoulder at the passed-out, dark-haired prostitute sprawled naked on the sheets behind him, fucked into oblivion. After taking a long, self-punishing drink from his half-empty bottle of Jack, he traced his finger back and forth over the trigger of the silver engraved .45 he held in his hand.

How did things get so screwed up? How had he gone from being the happiest he had ever been to _this_ in so short a time? How the hell had things spiralled down so quickly? Just when he had found peace, everything had been torn apart.

His thoughts drifted to Sam. Looking out for the kid was his responsibility. Right or wrong, it just always had been, and he had failed miserably - _again_. His brother had died for him and had then fought so damn hard to get control over his demon-blood addiction, this time with no magical cure-all from God, only to be hit with something much worse. Life had thrown his little brother to the wolves yet again and right now, Dean wasn't fit to help him.

Then there was Cas. The angel had given up everything for the Winchesters and was now but a shell of his former self - a lost, empty husk looking to Dean for answers. Banished from Heaven and hunted by those he had betrayed, Dean knew his friend wouldn't last much longer; if some vengeful angel didn't kill him then some inner demon would.

And there was Tasha. _Oh fuck, Tasha_. He exhaled and closed his eyes. He had hurt her badly, come damn close to killing her. His hand involuntarily dug into his right pocket and pulled out a small piece of silver, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. This was his fourth attempt but it still needed work. Making a ring from melted down pawn shop silver had proven to be much harder than making bullets. Tasha's hunter father had made her parents' wedding bands in the same fashion and to this day Tash kept them on her key ring, the only thing she had left of them besides memories. He had wanted to make some sort of gesture to let her know that the weeks he had spent with her had been the happiest of his life but let's face it, romantic gestures weren't exactly his area of expertise. Making her a ring like her dad once had for her mom was all he had been able to come up with.

He stole a quick glance behind him at the sexed-out whore and a fresh wave of guilt and shame swept over him. His fist closed tightly around the ring and he quickly turned away. _Fuck, he was a monster._ A cheating, dirtbag of a monster who deserved to be exterminated like the things he had spent his whole life hunting.

Dean had never had any trouble distinguishing right from wrong. That moral line had never been clouded or grey for him like it had been for Sam and hunting decisions had seldom been difficult for the elder sibling. But now ... He looked down at the gun again, fingering the trigger almost wistfully, contemplating his options.

 _What was the right thing to do?_ Destroy the monster he had become and end any chance of the twins ever being born? Through circumstances that still baffled him, he had been giving the blessing (or was that the curse?) of meeting his future children, spending three wonderful days getting to know the incredible little beings they were. Well, _would be_. But he needed to survive two more years to conceive them and he wouldn't ... _couldn't_...keep breathing that long in the state he was in now. He was going to kill someone ... and soon. He knew this without a doubt. He took another long drink from the bottle. Could he justify the risk of killing an innocent person for the sake of two children who hadn't been born yet?

A shuddering sigh escaped him and he buried his head in his hands, his fingers fisting tightly in his short hair. His future children weren't the only ones who needed him. He couldn't check out knowing something was wrong with Sam. Dean didn't even know if that _thing_ at Bobby's even _was_ his brother. For all he knew, Sam was already gone for good, though some part of him deep inside simply refused to believe that. Their father's dying words echoed in his mind. " _You have to save Sammy. If you can't save him, Dean, you might have to kill him._ " It was fucking eerie how that exact same set of instructions seemed to be back in play.

He had to save Sam. He had to help Cas. He had to start that family with Tash.

He exhaled slowly, feeling the familiar weariness of responsibility and failure seeping into his bones as he bent over to pull on his boots. He slid the silver ring back into his pocket and shoved the gun in the back of his jeans as he stood up. Making a conscious effort to avoid looking back at the naked woman on the bed, he tossed three hundred bucks on the dresser, shouldered his duffle, and left the room.

**_To be continued..._ **


	2. The Calm Before the Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story starts up just a month after Can't Catch Me Coz the Rabbit Done Died and is an AU version of season 6. Some of the elements will stay the same (i.e. Crowley's motives and the Campbells showing up...) but nothing happens the way it did on the show. Remember since the previous story completely rewrote season 5, Ellen and Jo aren't dead and Sam didn't jump into the pit. If you haven't read the previous stories, a few things in the first couple of chapters might not make sense but you'll be able to catch up pretty quickly.
> 
> Oh, and there's a naughty, naked Winchester in this chapter but if that's not your thing, you'll know when to start skipping down :)

**_**~x~x~x~x~x~x~** _ **

**_A week earlier..._ **

Ellen strolled into Bobby's kitchen with Sam in tow, directing him to leave the full bags of groceries he was holding on the kitchen table before dismissing him. Bobby hid an entertained smirk beneath his trucker's cap as he watched Sam hustle out of the room before Ellen could start ordering him to chop fresh greens or peel potatoes.

The older man's amusement was interrupted by a slap on the arm and he turned to see the elder Harvelle arching an eyebrow at him. "You almost done torturing yourself with reading the same useless lore for the fifth time?" she asked in a voice that suggested it wasn't really a question. "Nothin' you've got explains what's going on with the supes these days and I could use some help here."

Bobby groaned but closed his book. "You _had_   help," he mumbled. "You just let him skate on outta here."

"Sam's had a good day," Ellen informed him, ignoring his grumbling and not letting him off the hook. "I had him chopping wood for that old widow on Jackles Road to keep his mind off ... you know." In the entire month Ellen had been staying at Singer Salvage, she had only referred to Sam's demon blood addiction by name a handful of times, as if not saying it would help make it go away or make it easier for the younger Winchester to kick. "He worked up a sweat and needed a shower."

Invited by Dean, Ellen and Jo had shown up just two days after the Winchesters, Cas, and Tasha had returned from averting the Apocalypse and stopping Lucifer from rising. Ellen had immediately settled in, refusing to leave until she was sure Sam's detox was over and he would be alright. At first Bobby had been apprehensive about having so many live bodies in his house, especially with three of them being females, but the support the Harvelles had given his boys the past four weeks had been both appreciated and welcomed.

That and the quality of meals had improved tenfold. Damn that woman could cook!

Ellen slapped a handful of spring onions down on the table in front of him and handed him a knife. "Where is everyone?" she asked, returning to the unpacking of the grocery bags.

"I think Dean's out in the yard teaching the gals how to shoot the sniper rifle," he told her.

Ellen's shoulders tensed ever so slightly. "Oh swell," she ground out. "That's all Jo needs."

Bobby chuckled. "She ain't giving up huntin', Ellen. Makin' her better at it's the best thing to do now."

"Yeah, I know, it's just..." She was cut off by the back door opening and Dean and Jo entering, laughing noisily. A long-barrelled sniper rifle was slung over the Winchester's shoulder.

"Hey, what's for dinner?" Dean asked eagerly, seeing that Ellen was back and in the kitchen. "I'm starved."

"You're always starved," Jo teased.

"Well you got about an hour," Ellen informed them, slapping Dean's hand away as it reached for a bag of biscuits on the table. She glanced at her daughter. "You're up, hun."

Jo simply nodded. "Okay. Where is he?"

"Shower, I think."

"Where's Tash?" Dean asked, glancing into the living room.

Bobby shrugged as he continued chopping the vegetables. "No clue. Thought she was with you."

"Maybe she's downstairs?" Ellen offered but Dean gave a dismissive wave of the hand.

"Nah, I think I know where she is." He handed the rifle to Jo before heading to the back door. "You did good today, Jo."

"Thanks." Jo beamed at the praise, giving her mother a ' _did you hear that?'_   smirk.

"Don't get too cocky," Dean grinned, catching the exchange. "You still gotta strip and clean the rifle." He pointed to Bobby's end cabinet. "Oil's in there." He snickered at the blonde's loud groan and headed back outside.

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

Dean made his way up the rickety ladder of the old water tower, not liking how weak the rotted wood rungs felt under his feet. He hadn't climbed this thing since he was in his early teens and didn't remember it being quite so high. It was located on the far south of Bobby's large property, a good five hundred yards past the last of the piles of crushed cars that surrounded the house and the garage. The actual tank was long gone and a shoddy, wooden shed of sorts now sat on the top platform, constructed with scraps of wooden pallets and leftovers from an old renovation to Bobby's home.

The hunter grunted as he pushed open the hatch in the floor and stuck his head inside to see Tasha lying on an old car seat at the back of the tiny, single room with an open book held in her hand. "Hey, Dean," she greeted him with a curious smile.

He couldn't help but grin back at her and he struggled to pull his large frame through the opening in the floor. "What in the world are you doing in this dump?" he questioned.

She laid the book down and sat upright, patting the empty space on the seat next to her in invitation. "Dump?" she protested, pointing to the wall behind her. "Is that any way to talk about your handiwork?"

Dean followed her gaze to the back wall where an old inscription carved into the weathered wood was barely visible. "Domus Winchester," he read aloud, childhood memories flooding back to him. "Only DW and SW allowed."

Tasha snickered. "Guess I'm breaking the rules. She reached up to pull him down by the hem of his shirt. "Domus? What is that, Latin?"

Dean nodded, sinking down onto the leather seat next to her. "Sam's idea. He was just starting his research training. Kid was such a nerd." He laughed at the memory, giving her a quick kiss before looking around the small room. The seat was from the back of an old Chevy Delray that Bobby had towed into the yard and Dean remembered the tremendous effort it took him and nine-year-old Sam to hoist it up here. "Me and him made this clubhouse one summer when Dad dumped us off on Bobby so he could go on a hunt," he told her, letting out a snort. "Kinda shabby, huh?"

"I think it's the cutest place ever," Tasha argued. "I love imagining little you and little Sam hanging out in here – oh wait, was Sam ever little?"

He laughed again. "Believe it or not, he was a runt until he hit his mid-teens."

She sidled up closer to him and looked out the large, single-paned window which had been installed in the front wall. Dean noticed it had been recently wiped down for only the edges were crusted in twenty years of dirt. "You're in time for the sunset," she announced. "It's an awesome view with the outline of all the stacks of old cars and the red light streaming out from behind it. Kinda beautiful, actually."

"Beautiful? You do know it's a junkyard, right?"

"Well isn't that why you faced the window this way?"

A snort escaped the hunter. "Hell no. I just wanted to be able to see my Dad coming." He swung his arm around her shoulders and kissed her cheek. "I missed you last night," he said quietly. It had been his turn to watch Sam and had spent the night downstairs in the panic room where Sam had taken up temporary residence during his detox but he still knew Tasha had been out. "I heard you come in just before dawn."

"That's the problem staying in one place so long," she explained with a sigh. "You gotta go four towns over just to hustle some pool and make some coin."

"So here I was watching Sammy and you were out flirting for money?" he teased.

She slapped his leg. "It's called hustling, jerk."

"Not when _you_   do it, it's not," he scoffed. "I've seen how you score cash. Leaning your cleavage over the pool table and practically giving the cue a hand job."

Tasha laughed out loud. "What can I say, hustling works differently for us girls." She swung her leg over so she was straddling his lap and leaned forward to whisper in his ear. "The guy's gotta think he's getting something before he'll lay some real coin on the game." Her hands glided up his jean-clad thighs. "The more he wants to show off, the more money I can bring home to you."

Dean's hands moved to rest in the curve of her waist and he drew in a breath as he looked her up and down. "You're a tease, you know that?" he grinned. "And by the way, when we're at Bobby's, you don't have to pay him for anything. Sam and I toss some coin his way from time to time. It all works out."

Tasha scrunched up her nose and sat back onto his knees. "Well, I'm not you and Sam, am I? I like to pay my own way."

Dean just nodded in understanding, not bothering to argue. The brunette had been on her own for years and was fiercely independent; fending for herself was part of who she was. He didn't expect nor want that to change overnight.

"So, what are you doing up here anyway?" he changed the subject, glancing down at the book she had been reading.

It was ' _No Rest for the Wicked_ ' by Carver Edlund, a.k.a. Chuck Shurley. He winced involuntarily. That was the book where he got sent to Hell.

"You said you didn't mind if I read them," she said quickly, clearly catching his apprehensive look.

"No, no I don't mind," he assured her, pulling her closer to give her a soft kiss on the lips. "I got no secrets from you." Surprisingly, he meant it.

She furrowed her brow at him. "Well, explain one thing to me then," she said.

Dean rolled his eyes, inwardly hoping this wasn't a question about ' _Route 666'_   or worse, about that awkward scene Chuck had so unecessarily included in the first chapter of ' _Scarecrow'_   with the frigging itchy rash Dean had been given by the bar waitress in Ohio. "Of course," he encouraged her. "Shoot."

"Howcome I'm not in any of these?" she demanded. "I was there during these last two but I'm not even mentioned once."

The hunter couldn't help but laugh at her entirely offended expression. He had wondered the same thing when he had first read the books and had put the question to Chuck. "Well, you were in the first draft," he explained with a grin. "But Chuck's publisher had insisted there were a lot of ... uh ...female fans who didn't like love interests so the publisher made him take you out before the books got printed."

"Oh really?" she snorted, a smile that Dean recognized as her naughty one spreading across her face. Still straddling him, she ran her hands under his t-shirt and up over his chest. "Jealous fangirls, huh? Well, what would they think of me doing this?" She grinded her hips on his lap.

Dean groaned, pulling her harder against him and feeling his jeans tightening. "Hmmm, they probably wouldn't like it."

"And this?" She reached down to stroke his growing bulge while slipping her tongue into his mouth, gently coaxing his into action. "What would they think about me now?"

He breathed a chuckle into her mouth. "They'd probably kill you off in fanfiction."

"You know," she purred in his ear, still rolling her hips back and forth. "I can't help but notice that this is the first time in ages that we've been alone."

Dean raised a quizzical eyebrow at her, pulling her back enough to peer into her eyes. "What do you mean?" he asked in earnest. "Except when one of us pulls night shift watching Sammy, we spend every night alone - in our own room."

"I mean _alone_ , with nobody in the next room or down the hall. Bobby's walls are paper thin and ... and there's so many people in the house all the time." She bit her lip and sighed, giving him a quick apologetic glance. She hastily covered it with a sultry and suggestive look, however, and her hips started moving again. She hooked her hands together behind his neck and dipped her head to plant a wet kiss on his neck.

"Nobody can hear us here," she murmured against his skin. "I think you should take advantage of the situation, mister."

His heart rate was starting to speed up and Dean pulled her harder against him. "And what do you suggest I do?" His voice was low.

He felt a hot tongue flicking around the sensitive skin just below his ear. "Anything that'll make me scream," she whispered.

Dean didn't need any further encouragement. In an instant, his mouth was on hers and he flipped her over so she was on her back on the old car seat. He climbed on top of her, tugging at her clothes and kicking off his own boots. His lips never left hers until her shirt was off then his tongue began tracing a fiery path down her neck to the top of her bra. She arched eagerly into his hot touch, her breath quickening and her hands fumbling with his belt buckle.

He paused long enough to yank his t-shirt off over his head and kick his way out of his jeans before he was on her again, sliding her denim shorts down her legs and rubbing his fingers against the already-damp fabric of her lacy boy-cuts.

She tipped her head back and moaned loudly, pressing her hips harder into his hand to urge him on. Dean sucked in a needy breath at the sight and quickly unsnapped her bra. He fondled a breast in each hand as he pressed kisses to her stomach and navel, moving lower in response to her escalating moans. He licked along the top line of cloth before hooking a finger in each side and sliding them down her legs and off, tossing them on the floor somewhere. Prying her knees apart, he kissed his way back up her inner thighs, smirking at the gasp she let out when he reached his goal.

"Oh fuck...unh..."

He let his tongue flick circles around her clit before gently probing it inside. She bowed right off the leather seat, her fingers grasping in the spikes of his hair in an attempt to keep him between her legs despite her movements. He pinned her back down with one large hand while the other moved towards where his tongue was still torturing her. He slid a single finger into her throbbing tightness, moving it in and out slowly before adding a second and picking up the pace. She squirmed and panted beneath him and he could feel himself swelling until his tip was peeking out the top of his boxer briefs.

"Mmmm, you like that?" he groaned.

"Meh, it's alright," she said, her voice hitching as she was tried unsuccessfuly to keep a straight face through her own joke.

"Just alright? I can stop," he teased, withdrawing his fingers out just long enough to pull his own underwear down.

"Mmnnnn, no!" she whimpered at the loss of friction, wrapping her legs around his neck and tugging his face back down, begging him to continue. "Don't stop! Please."

Dean grinned and moved his tongue back to circle her most sensitive spot. He pulled and sucked, lapping the length of her then thrusting his tongue deep inside. He could feel her start to quiver and could tell by the desperation in her moans she was close. He slid his fingers back inside and pumped them in and out just beneath his tongue.

"You gonna scream, babe?" he asked her breathlessly. "We're all alone out here, remember?"

"Unh...I'm gonna...unh, I'm gonna..." She tipped her head back and cried out, her whole body arching upwards and spurts of warm liquid trickling past his tongue. Dean kept sucking and licking through her orgasm, tasting her until she was done, his hands gently kneading her thighs as she came down.

"Not nearly good enough," he grinned, climbing back up her body and shaking his head. He crashed his lips against hers, letting her taste her own juices as he lifted one of her legs over his shoulder and guided his length towards her. "I want a real scream." He thrust in without warning, hard and deep, groaning at both the feel of her around him and the pain of her nails digging into his biceps.

She cried out, louder this time and clung to him as he started to move faster and deeper into her. He pulled her second leg up over his shoulder and planted his hands firmly on either side of her head, picking up the pace of his thrusting hips. He slammed into her harder and harder, grunting with the effort and revelling of the feel of her tight, wet walls caressing his full length as he bottomed out.

"Oh fuck...Tash," he ground out.

"Dean!...unh... Oh God! Unh...unh...unh..." was her only response.

He wrapped her legs around his waist, lifting her hips off the faded leather as he continued to fuck her hard and fast. Oh God, the things this woman could make him feel! He pounded into her until he could feel the beads of sweat dripping off his naked torso onto hers. Her head was tipped back and her mouth open and the sight of her all blissed out and about to burst was almost enough to push him over the edge.

He drew out and pulled her up against him. "All fours baby," he panted, manhandling her onto her knees with her chest over the back of the car seat. "I'll get a scream outta you yet."

She didn't answer through her panting but managed to throw a lustful grin his way as she wiggled her ass at him, eager to have him back inside her. He didn't make her wait and simply grabbed her hips, entering her forcefully from behind. She yelped and slammed her palms against the back wall of the tiny clubhouse, her fingers splayed across the 'DW' and the 'SW' carved into the wood.

He reared back and thrust forward again and again, moving his hips at an impossibly fast speed and wrenching hers back into his with every plunge forward. She made desperate sounding gasps that got louder and louder, soon drowning out the sound of skin slapping skin.

"I hope...you're close," he panted.

"So close...yes...so close...oh, OH!..." And with that she finally screamed, loud and long, her back arching and her hips pushing back towards him. "DEAAAAN!"

He dug his fingers into her hips and plunged in one last time, groaning loudly in satisfaction as he emptied himself into her. He held her against him and they both rocked gently through their release.

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

Sam's hands were in his pockets as he wandered between two rows of stacked wrecks in Bobby's sprawling car graveyard. It was early evening so the summer afternoon heat had given way to a cool breeze and the hunter was enjoying the fresh air. The past week had gone well and he was finally starting to actually believe he could kick the demon blood once and for all. He was convinced he was ready for a hunt and planned on broaching the subject with Dean after supper tonight.

Dean. Sam's thoughts drifted. He didn't remember a time in all their lives when his brother had seemed happier or more at peace than he was these days. After the elder Winchester had come back from hell and the seals had started breaking, things had spiralled downhill and Dean had seemed to be doing worse and worse. Sam knew it had been his fault for focusing more on going after Lilith than helping his struggling brother, but Ruby and the blood had fucked up his sense of priorities. It did little to ease his guilt to be told that he had apparently come through for Dean in the end and sacrificed himself to save both Dean and Dean's kids because he didn't remember that reality, that timeline. He just remembered strangling Dean in that hotel room then coming within a baby's breath of killing Lilith and letting Lucifer free. If Dean hadn't stopped him...

He inhaled deeply and closed his eyes, forcing his mind to change the subject. He did better when he thought about good things, positive things. What mattered was Dean had forgiven him and was smiling every day. Sam knew family was the most important thing in the world to Dean and right now, he had his whole family around him, under the same roof. Bobby was like their dad, Ellen was naturally motherly, and Sam could see similarities between the way Dean spoke to Jo and the way Dean had treated him growing up. Very sibling-like; Dean was starting to think of her as a little sister. Cas had become a closer friend than Sam had ever known Dean to have and the angel had also sacrificed everything for the friendship the two shared. And then, of course, there was Tash. Dean didn't do anything half-assed and that included loving the petite brunette hunter.

Sam didn't even realize he was smiling at his own thoughts when a voice calling his name startled him. Turning, he saw Jo jogging down the dusty aisle to catch up with him. "Hey Sam," she greeted him. "Mind if I join ya?"

He grinned back at her. "You got stuck on Sammy duty today, huh?" he asked good-naturedly. "You know, you guys don't have to worry so much, I'm not gonna …. you know, fall off the wagon." He averted his eyes from the blonde for a second. "I mean, I hate being such a burden."

"I don't mind," she smiled, punching his shoulder playfully. "You're not such bad company."

He relaxed. He was getting used to not being left alone for very long these days and in truth, grateful for it. They wandered around Bobby's yard for a while, killing time until supper was ready and making a deliberate effort to avoid the house and Ellen for fear of being put to work.

"So Dean said he was gonna get you girls on the sniper rifle today," he said. "How'd it go?"

"Well it was just me but I got seven out of ten at five hundred yards," she smirked, making Sam laugh.

"Where was Tash then?" he asked curiously. It had been the brunette's turn to keep the recovering addict company most of the day yesterday on the 'Buddy System' Dean had set up to ensure Sam wasn't given a chance to slip, but he hadn't seen her since.

A slight frown crossed Jo's face. "I dunno. She went out last night after supper and didn't get back until just before dawn."

Sam just nodded.

"Don't you find that a bit weird?" Jo asked hesitantly.

Sam let out a short breath of laughter. "Not really," he assured her. "Tasha's pretty independent."

Seeing the sceptical look on the blonde's face he raised an eyebrow at her. "What? You don't like Tash?"

"No, no, it's not that," she said quickly. "It's not that at all. She's friendly and cool, I guess, it's just…she doesn't really say anything personal, you know? Kinda hard to get to know."

Sam understood. "She was raised on the run from a powerful, crazy-on-toast, psychotic vampire trying to wipe out her whole family," he explained. "She was taught to keep moving and not to make friends or attachments because this vampire would use them to track her and her family down. That's a hard habit to break."

"She's attached to Dean."

"Yeah," Sam smiled. "Yeah she sure is."

Jo giggled. "You know, it's funny," she ventured. "I never woulda pictured Dean with a girlfriend, but they're actually really cute together."

"Cute?" Sam snorted at her choice of words. "Don't let either of them hear you say that." They were headed across the grass towards the lake and Sam paused suddenly, tilting his head. "What's that sound? You hear something?" he asked.

Jo stopped to listen also and her eyes suddenly widened as they both deciphered the sound they were hearing. It was coming from the little shack on top of the old water tower platform thirty yards away and it was unmistakably Tasha's voice, loud and lustful.

" _Dean!...Unh... Oh God! Unh...unh...unh..."_

Sam felt his cheeks flush hot and glanced down at Jo to see hers turning a bright shade of pink. "Uh, wanna head back towards the house?" he stammered.

"Yeah, uh, yeah, why don't we?" Jo replied quickly, looking relieved and more than a little awkward.

They walked quickly away from the Winchester's old clubhouse and the noisy activities going on inside it, not slowing their pace until they were well out of earshot.

"Still think they're cute?" Sam finally snickered.

"Maybe that was the wrong word."

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

Dean and Tasha lay entangled in one another's limbs on the old leather car seat, cuddling and nuzzling each other as they slowly regained their breath.

"Okay, I am **_so_** gonna make sure we get more alone time," he chuckled.

She moaned lazily in agreement, tilting her head and pulling him towards her to plant a line of soft kisses on his neck. "Don't get me wrong, I appreciate that you sex me to sleep most nights and I love your version of a morning wake-up call, but every now and then, we need a wild fuck, don't you think?" She moved her lips to his mouth and kissed him hard. "I wouldn't want you to get bored with me."

"Bored?" Dean gave her an incredulous look, pushing himself up onto his arms, his hands on either side of her face. He stared down at her naked chest where a sexy-as-hell sheen of sweat was glistening on her skin in the low light of the sun. "Like that would ever happen," he groaned, dropping his head to take a puckered nipple in his mouth and enjoying the soft moan he got in response. He could never get bored of this, of her.

"So how'd you know where I was, anyway?" she asked him, her fingers running languidly through his short hair.

Dean moved his attention to the other breast. "Cas," he replied absently.

Tasha made a face. "What? How'd he know where I was? That's seriously creepy. He spying on me or something?"

Dean let out a throaty chuckle and lowered himself behind her, stretching out and wrapping an arm around her waist to keep her from falling off the narrow seat. "No," he assured her. "He's an angel. He can find you whenever he wants. He just mentioned that you spent a lot of time out here." He nuzzled her neck. "You know, he thinks you avoid him."

"I kinda do." She gave him a slightly guilty look. "I mean, he acts like we're such really close friends coz he's got all these memories of me and him living together for five years like some happy Brady Bunch family but..." she scrunched up her face, "But I don't have those memories. That didn't happen for me. I don't know him."

Dean brushed a stray lock of hair away from across her eyes. "Give it time," he said simply. "Trust me, the nerd grows on you."

Tasha sighed. "I don't mean to be antisocial, Dean. I'm just not used to having so many people around."

It struck Dean for the first time that Tasha may be having a hard time adjusting. He had been so happy to have everyone he loved around him the past month, under the same roof and safe, that he hadn't realized maybe it wasn't everyone's idea of perfect. He had noticed Tasha would slip away from time to time, mostly when he was tied up with Sam-Duty, but he never really gave it much thought because she had always seemed so happy when she was with him.

Tasha had been alone for so long before they met and had always been so independent. Dean often wondered how she had ever managed to live that way. He had hated it after Sam had left for Stanford and it had been just him and his dad. Whenever John would leave him alone for more than a couple of days, Dean would immediately seek out female companionship. It was always temporary, but it worked and it dulled the sharp pain of loneliness for a night or two. When John had gone missing entirely, Dean had waited all of three days before he had shown up on Sam's doorstep to drag him back into the life so Dean didn't have to be alone.

The elder Winchester couldn't stand being alone. He'd had a lonely enough childhood even with Sam around. No real friends, no lasting relationships, nobody getting to know the real him. For Tash, working with just him and Sam had been an adjustment but now she had the Winchesters, a Singer, and the Harvelles around pretty much twenty-four-seven. He could only imagine how strange it must be for her.

He leaned over and kissed her, taking his time with it. When he finally pulled away, he cupped her cheek and spoke sincerely. "I'm sorry, babe. I know it can get kinda crowded sometimes."

Tasha's soft brown eyes were open and honest as she gazed at him. She stroked his face as she spoke. "Dean, I don't have any family left, so believe me when I say I'm glad for you to have your family around but...but it's _your_   family."

He planted a kiss on her lips. "You're my family too," he said convincingly. "So you need to stop thinking you're alone in the world Tash. Stop thinking you don't have any family, coz everyone in that house considers you one of their own." He kissed her again. "You're not alone anymore."

He felt her shoulders relax in his hold and her tongue danced with his for a long, breathless moment. "I know I'm not," she whispered finally, burrowing into his arms to lie in a comfortable embrace together.

He smiled, kissing the top of her head and knowing she believed him.

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

Supper was almost ready and the inhabitants of Bobby's house were starting to converge in the kitchen, drawn in by the enticing smell of Harvelle meatloaf. It was then Cas made an appearance. He flashed into the middle of the room, startling a cry out of Jo who was just turning around from the fridge with a couple of beers to find the angel right in front of her.

"Cas, what's up?" Sam greeted him. The angel had been keeping busy searching for answers to the strange goings on in the supernatural world and was gone most of the time but managed to show up at Bobby's every couple of days or so.

"I have come across some information," Cas answered gravely, looking around. "I need to speak to you all. Where are Dean and Tasha?"

"They're out at the south edge of the yard," Sam informed him.

Cas nodded curtly. "Very well. I will go get them."

"No, wait!" Sam and Jo exclaimed in unison.

"Uh, they'll be back in soon, I'm sure," Sam added hastily. "Just give them a few minutes."

Jo giggled. Cas frowned.

"Sit your ass down," Ellen ordered, hustling the angel into an empty chair at the table. "You're just in time for supper."

"I don't need to eat," Cas reminded her solemnly.

She rolled her eyes. "Well, we do," she told him. "And take that damn trench coat off at the dinner table."

Cas's eyes widened slightly at her tone but in a blink, the trench coat was folded in a neat pile on the end of the counter. He pursed his lips impatiently as Jo handed Sam a beer and Bobby set the table for seven, none of them seeming overly anxious to hear the information he had uncovered.

Dean and Tasha came in just as the meatloaf was being pulled out of the oven. "Ellen, that smells awesome!" Dean announced loudly as he entered the kitchen. "Hey Cas," he greeted upon seeing his friend.

In a flash, Cas was standing once more and the trench coat was back on. "Good, you are all here," he said. "As you know, I have been searching for the demon named Crowley because he has the Colt."

Bobby grimaced. "Me too. Calls himself the King of Hell now. Besides that, I got nothing'."

"I haven't located him yet either," Cas continued, "But I have uncovered some interesting information. The Horseman Death told me there was one who would cause more chaos and destruction than Lucifer and I now believe the one he was referring to could be Crowley."

"Why's that?" Jo encouraged.

"Crowley has been searching for the Alphas."

"Alphas?" Dean raised an eyebrow. "What's an Alpha?"

"A first," Bobby breathed, a look of trepidation spreading across his bearded face. "As in the first vamp, the first shifter, the first ... well, the first one of everything supernatural that isn't human or ghost." He narrowed his eyes at Cas. "Alphas are just supposed to be a myth. No hunter's ever seen one or proven they exist."

"Well they do," Cas confirmed. "They have not been seen nor heard from in centuries. Most of them have the ability to hide from angels but they all have a connection with their children."

"Children?" Ellen interjected.

"Yes, all those that are descendents of each first. Recently, the connection between supernatural creatures and their Alphas has strengthened, which can only mean they are walking among you again. The Alphas are powerful and are not saddled with the weaknesses of their children. I have learned that Crowley is trying to get his hands on one."

"Which one?" asked Dean.

"Any of them."

"Why?" asked Tasha.

Cas shrugged. "I don't know."

There was a long silence as the hunters processed the information Cas had just given them, the meatloaf temporarily forgotten. It was Ellen who spoke first.

"So exactly how does this information help us?" she demanded, looking directly at Cas.

"I have a lead on an Alpha," the angel supplied. "I am certain I am not the only one privvy to this information so there are sure to be demons working for Crowley there also. Perhaps we could coax some information from one of them, find out what Crowley is up to. At the very least, we could perhaps find the Colt that you seek."

Dean nodded in agreement. He would love to have his hands on the Colt again, to have that extra sense of comfort in case Meg or some other psychotic fugly with a grudge threatened anyone he cared about. "Sounds like a plan. Why don't me and you go check it out, Cas?"

Cas pursed his lips. "I'm afraid the building in question has been warded against angels. I cannot enter. The Alpha in question is also the First Daeva. Daevas can sense the presence of an angel. They will be alerted if I get too close."

"So we all go," Jo piped in eagerly.

Sam nodded. "Yeah, I for one am ready to get back in the game. I'm going stir crazy hanging out here doing nothing."

Dean's face tightened as he looked from Sam to Jo and back to Sam.

"I'm ready, Dean," Sam said sharply, cutting off the remark Dean was just about to make. "I'm fine. I'll be fine."

"There could be demons there," Dean pointed out.

"And I'm not gonna jump them and chow down, I swear," Sam insisted. "I'm dealing with it. Honestly, Dean, I got it under control."

Dean threw Bobby a sharp glance, hoping for some support but the older man just shrugged. "Me and Ellen gotta go see a hunter in Iowa tomorrow," he said. "Ellen's friend says he captured a shifter who got sick but didn't die with a silver dagger in the heart. I should check it out so ... so you could use Sam on this one."

"He'll be alright, Dean," Tasha offered. "We'll stick by him." She gave Sam a teasing elbow nudge. "He is kinda buff and handy to have around."

Dean forced out a calming breath but nodded reluctantly. "Okay, the three of us can go."

"Uh, four!" Jo corrected.

"Well, hon, I was hoping you would come with ..." Ellen started but her daughter cut her off.

"You don't need three people to go see a damn shifter! I'm going with them." She jerked her thumb towards Sam and Dean.

Ellen gave Dean a quick, apprehensive look and hunter responded with a subtle nod indicating he would watch out for Jo. He didn't like it but he had learned not to bother arguing with the stubborn blonde. He'd keep her off the front lines and out of the direct line of fire.

"Well, can we at least have supper first?" the elder Harvelle asked Cas, pointing towards the forgotten meatloaf on the table.

Cas nodded. "I'm sure it can wait until tomorrow."

"Alright then. Sit your ass back down and fill us in on what you know," Ellen instructed with a sigh, looking around at the four young hunters in Bobby's kitchen. "You kids can leave in the morning."

"Kids?" Dean scoffed indignantly, his mouth already full of biscuit.

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

They were packed and carrying the duffles out to the cars by dawn. Bobby and Ellen left first in Bobby's Chevelle and Tasha gave them a curious look as she watched the old muscle car pull out of the yard.

"D'ya think they're sleeping together?" she asked out loud only to be answered with a chorus of disgusted 'Ewwww!'s.

"I don't even wanna think about that!" Jo winced.

"Yeah, a mental image I _really_   didn't need," Dean cringed. He stepped up to Tasha and placed a hand in the small of her back, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. "You riding with us or taking your own car?" he asked her.

"Actually, why don't you and Sam take the Impala and us girls can beat you there in the Challenger?" she offered.

Dean was taken a bit by surprise at the suggested arrangement but smiled at her appreciatively. He realized she was making an effort to become part of the family by spending some time with Jo and she was doing it for him.

"Sounds good to me," Jo nodded, tossing her duffle in the trunk of Tasha's red car.

Dean grinned. "Thanks," he said quietly, giving his girlfriend another kiss.

His _girlfriend_.  Even the sound of that word still freaked him out just a little. He had a girlfriend. A girlfriend who loved him. His brother was fine. Lucifer was gone. They were back hunting again. Cas was still banished from heaven but as far as Dean was concerned, the angel had a home and a family here on earth with them. Sure there was a bit of freaky stuff going on with the monsters these days but it couldn't be as bad as last year when the Devil was being set free, could it? Besides, he had two years to figure it out and take care of it before he 'retired' and had those kids with Tasha.

Yes, things were looking pretty good for Dean Winchester.

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**


	3. Meet the Family

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

Twelve miles out of Casper, Wyoming, Cas popped up in the back seat of the Impala.

"Dude, can you tell me where the girls are?" Dean demanded, not bothering to say hi.

"Why? Is there cause to worry?" Cas asked quickly, his expression alarmed.

"No," Sam scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Tasha and Jo went north through Rapid City and Dean bet Tasha we'd get there first going the southern route and he wants to know if they're ahead of us or not."

Cas's mouth tightened in disapproval but he disappeared, reappearing less than a minute later.

"Well?" Dean asked him, catching his gaze in the rear view mirror.

"They're six miles from our destination," Cas answered, his brow furrowed in an uncomfortable frown. "Based on your current speed, they will arrive before you." 

Dean hissed his disappointment.  He hated losing.

Cas fidgeted awkwardly before extending his hand over the back of the seat towards Dean, his fingers closed in a fist around something. "Tash insisted I bring this to you," he said gruffly.

Dean glanced down and reached over to take Cas's offering, groaning when he felt the bunched up cloth drop into his palm. It was a pair of lace panties.

"Cheeky bitch," he mumbled, unable to prevent the grin that spread across his face.

"She said to say you should see what you're in for," Cas blurted.

A snort escaped Sam. "I so do _not_   want to know what the stakes of your little bet are."

"I don't see how delivering undergarments will aid in discovering Crowley's motives," Cas chastised impatiently.

Dean laughed. "Remind me to take you to another whorehouse when this is over Cas. Get a nice lady of ill repute to take that stick out of your ass."

Sam noticed the angel's flustered look at Dean's teasing and took pity on him. "Okay, let me get all this Daeva stuff straight," he said, effectively changing the subject and rescuing the angel from any further humiliation. "A few days ago, Bobby told you he had heard of three hunters coming across Daevas killing people in Wyoming but none of them found any leads to whoever had summoned them and was controlling them."

"That's correct," Cas confirmed. "Daevas are always summoned in pairs because they are permanently connected to their mates but it is very rare for them to found in larger groups. They are savage and will instinctively kill any Daeva other than their chosen mate. They will fight to the death if another pair enters their territory, even when controlled by a binding spell."

Sam jumped back in. "So Bobby assumed it was either three separate summonings or that the three hunters ran into the same pair," he repeated what they had discussed last night over supper. "Except that the last guy claimed there were _three_ that attacked him. That's when you decided to come investigate yourself."

"Yes. Bobby thought perhaps the hunter could have been mistaken but if he wasn't, then something is giving the Daevas the power to resist their natural instinct to kill one another. The only thing I am aware of able to exert that kind of influence would be an Alpha."

"And you saw four Daevas together?" Sam asked.

The angel nodded again. "I found two pairs in the same place and followed them to an abandoned building in Casper, Wyoming but they sensed my presence and attacked me. I had to leave but when I returned later, I discovered the building was shielded from angels with Enokian wards."

Dean smiled as he drove listening to the other two. It was a longstanding habit of the brothers to repeat the facts going into a new hunt, with Dean asking questions and Sam relaying what they knew so far, so it was amusing listening to Cas and Sam doing it, both taking Sam's role without even noticing.

"So a Daeva can hurt an angel?" Dean interrupted, figuring he would keep with tradition and ask at least one question.

"Normally, they wouldn't be much of a threat," Cas admitted, pursing his lips. "But I am cut off from Heaven and am weaker than I once was." His gaze lingered thoughtfully out the Impala's side window. "That and there were four of them," he added with a hint of indignation.

Dean grinned at him in the rear view mirror. "Dude, just coz you're running a little low on angel juice doesn't mean you can't still kick some ass. I'd want you in my corner any day of the week." He caught Sam's sly smile in his peripheral and decided that was enough girly pep-talk. _Frigging domestic bliss must be rubbing off on him, making him soft._ "So what's the address of this building?" he asked, clearing his throat.

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

Cas winged out of the Impala before the city limits to avoid detection by the Daevas, leaving the hunters without holy help on this one. They parked the cars along the curbs of the streets both in front and in back of the building, staking the place out for an hour before deciding to head inside. They relocated the vehicles to a quiet side street close by, quickly arming up with flares for the Daevas and shotguns and salt rounds for the demons. Dean handed Sam Ruby's knife as he explained the plan.

"We don't know how to take out a Daeva permanently so if we run into any, we flash 'em and get the Hell outta there," he told them. "We gotta look for an altar that's being used to control them and destroy it. Hopefully, we'll run into a demon or two of Crowley's while we're here and we can try get some answers." He jerked his head towards a single metal door on the side of the building. "We'll go in that side door. Jo, you keep watch from that hedge there," he added, pointing to a spot with decent cover near the fence. "Set your phones on walkie-talkie."

"Wait, what?" Jo exclaimed. "No way! I'm not getting stuck on lookout!"

Dean gave her a hard look. He had told her mother he'd look out for her and this was potentially a really sticky situation they were walking into. The only time he had hunted with Jo, he'd let her get captured and almost killed and the last time he had gone up against Daevas, all three Winchester men had almost been killed. "You want to work with us, you do what I say," he said bluntly, his tone stern.

Tasha and Sam tactfully remained silent during the intense stare-down that ensued.

"Look, we're sitting ducks in there without eyes outside," Dean finally pointed out. "We _need_   you out here."

Jo's jaw was tight but she relented. "Fine," she said, snatching her shotgun and tucking a blade in the back of her jeans before taking a few stiff steps towards the building.

Dean groaned under his breath but shut the Impala's trunk and followed her, Tasha and Sam just a few paces behind. He had been trained by his father, a US Marine who demanded absolute discipline, so Dean liked to know his orders would be followed without question when going into a hunt. This was never a problem with Sam or Tasha. They may question him and argue with him and call him bossy every other minute of the day but when the heat was on, they were all in sync and they obeyed without question, just as Dean deferred to Bobby's calls when the older hunter was with them. Jo's lack of experience coupled with her determination to prove herself made her a wild card and Dean didn't like wild cards.

It took Sam less than twenty seconds to pick the lock on the door and three of the four hunters slipped inside quietly. The building was an old textile warehouse and appeared to be completely empty. They could see no signs of demons or Daeva and when Tasha questioned the whereabouts of the Enokian sigils, Dean explained that the markings could be invisible to alive people if put there by demons. They crept from room to room, growing more and more disheartened at the lack of evidence of any supernatural going-ons. By the time they had finished searching both upstairs and down, they had found no Daveas, no demons, and no signs of a summoning altar.

"So howcome you've never tried to put me on watch duty?" Tasha challenged Dean as they headed back down the stairs side by side.

"I've seen you with a knife; I know you can handle yourself. Besides, you're cautious and I know Sam and I can trust you to listen." Dean turned his head to grin at her. "That and you'd probably kill me in my sleep if I tried."

She snorted. "I wouldn't wait until you were sleeping."

Dean heard Sam snicker from behind them.

"Jo's just not ready," the elder Winchester explained seriously. "She's still inexperienced. Once she earns her stripes, then she can walk the front line."

"But how's she gonna earn her stripes if you never give her the chance?" Tasha pointed out. "She's safer learning the ropes with you watching her back than on a hunt by herself."

Dean groaned. "What's this? One road trip together and you and Jo are besties now?"

"She's got a point, Dean," Sam interjected as they reached the front warehouse area again.

Dean's reply was cut off when his cell beeped. " _Dean?"_ came Jo's whispered voice through the phone as he pressed the intercom button. " _There's six_..." It cut out sharply.

"Jo?" Dean tried to reach her back. "Jo!" He pocketed the phone and headed immediately toward the exit, pumping his shotgun. "Crap. We gotta get outside," he said urgently.

The three of them were so focused on getting to the door on the far side of the large room they didn't notice the swift-moving shadows on the floor behind them, gaining quickly. Dean's hunter instincts gave him that prickly sensation an instant too late for when he turned to glance behind him, he was greeted by an invisible blow that sent him skidding across the floor and into the brick wall. He could feel a sharp stinging sensation across his chest and knew without looking that he'd been sliced and tossed by a Daeva.

It all happened so fast after that. Winded and unable to speak, he strained to push himself around to check on Sam and Tasha. Fear clutched his insides when a shotgun blast followed by a scream rang out from Tasha's direction and he caught a glimpse of Sam hitting the ground, flailing his arms and legs at some unseen attacker above him.

"Flares!" he managed to shout, realizing with a silent curse that his own flare was currently rolling on the floor over ten yards away.

He was still struggling to get to his feet when he noticed the menacing shadow racing towards him. He had lost his flare but still had a hold of his shotgun and he blasted it at the empty space above the dark shape. To his dismay, it had no apparent effect. His eyes were still searching wildly for Tasha as he pushed upwards and he finally saw the brunette careening across the floor in the opposite direction from him and slamming into the far wall with a dull thud. Still in the middle of the room, Sam let out a sharp cry of pain, his large body writing and thrashing and dark, red marks appearing on his jeans. The duffel with the stash of extra flares had been dropped in the suddenness of the attack and was now lying useless fifteen feet away. Fifteen may as well have been fifty.

Dean heard Tasha's Glock going off repeatedly and guessed that she, too, must have been relieved of her flare before having a chance to set it off. The hunter knew the bullets would do her no good and his heart seized in fear as he realized both she and Sam were about to be killed and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. As if confirming this, the shadow reached him and he felt a searing pain in his shoulder as he was hurled back into the wall again.

He lashed out frantically in front of him with his sawed-off, trying to use the shadow on the wall in his peripheral as a guide to fend off the invisible Daeva shrieking viciously and slashing at him. Searing pain shot up his arm again as he tried to block his face but he barely noticed it this time, distracted by the screams of agony coming from both Sam and Tasha. He edged along the wall, trying desperately to free himself from the vicious onslaught enough to at least catch a glimpse of his brother or his girlfriend but an intense light suddenly completely blinded him.

The savage attack he had been subjected to ceased immediately and he threw his arms up to block the painfully bright light from his eyes, squeezing them shut instinctively. He reopened them to find his vision all but gone and nothing but blotches of light filled his sight. At first he thought Sam or Tash must have fired off a flare but then he felt arms tugging him upwards and heard voices, several voices. He didn't recognize any of them but they were saying things like "Are they alive?" and "Are they human?" and "Get them out of here!" as they manhandled him roughly to his feet.

He heard his brother's agitated voice. "Who are you? Get off me!" Then it called out for him. "Dean? Tash?"

 _Okay, at least Sam was alive_.

"Sam!" Dean yelled back amid the confusion, blinking his eyes furiously as shapes and shadows started to reappear. "Tash?" He struggled to free himself from the two men now flanking him and pulling him in the direction of the door but they didn't let go.

"Get them outside and get this place locked down!" shouted an unknown male voice.

He heard another voice in the distance. "Ma'am? Are you alright ma'am?" A chill ran through Dean when there wasn't an immediate response.

"Tash?" he called out, renewing his blind struggle to free himself. Vague shapes and shadows were starting to reappear in his vision, the effect of the extremely bright flare finally starting to fade.

"I'm here," she replied, her voice sounding breathy and shaken. "I-I can't see. Hey, fuck off! Let me go!"

"Just trying to get you outside, lady," came the unfamiliar voice again, sounding aggravated now.

A cooling of the air around him hit Dean and he realized he was outside. A wave of relief swept through him. Whoever these men were, they had saved all three of them from fairly-certain death by the Daevas and seemed to be hustling the hunters outside, hopefully to safety.

"Sam! Dean!" That was Jo.

Dean blinked a few times, straining enough to see Jo standing a few feet away, seemingly unharmed but with her arm pinned behind her by a large, bearded man he didn't recognize. "Jo, you alright?" he demanded. The man let her go and she came rushing forward.

"Yeah, I'm sorry, they just came outta nowhere. How 'bout you guys?" she asked urgently.

It was then Dean realized Sam was right next to him, his tall shape slightly hunched over and leaning on the two unknown men with dark glasses that were flanking him.

"We're fine," both brothers answered Jo in unison. Dean spun his head round to see a blurry version of Tasha emerging from the building behind him, yet another man walking next to her with her arm slung over his shoulder for support. He let out a long, deep breath and tried to quell the panic of the last sixty seconds enough to think straight. It seemed these guys were helping... at least for now.

_Play it cool 'til you figure out what's going on._

Some of the men went back into the building at that point and the four hunters were led by the three remaining men down the driveway to two vans parked out on the quiet street. Dean's vision had pretty much fully returned by the time he, Sam and Tasha were made to sit on the tailgate and a long-haired guy in his forties came over with a good-sized med kit slung over his shoulder.

"What we got?" the guy asked briskly, looking between the three injured people.

"Three civs sliced by Daevas, Doc," one of the other guys answered with an impatient sneer. Dean bit his tongue. He didn't appreciate the derogatory tone and being called a civ but until he knew who these people were, he wasn't about to volunteer any information. Right now he was thinking hunters or military.

The one called Doc just nodded and strode towards Sam first, drawing a knife as he did so. Both Dean and Sam reacted quickly, tensing up and reaching in their jackets for weapons.

Doc raised his hands in the air. "Hey, cool it. I just need to cut open his pant leg so I can see that wound."

Dean looked down to see Sam's jeans were soaked through with blood around four long rips in the fabric. As he concentrated to focus better, he saw also the rips in Sam's sleeves and shirt and the blood that accompanied each tear. He turned to check on Tasha to see her temple smeared with blood that was trickling down her face and her left hand clamped around her right sleeve, which was stained red beneath her fingers. He wondered if he looked as bad as they did. Glancing down at the blood on his chest, he figured he probably did.

Crap that was a close call. _Too close._

Sam nodded his permission and Doc moved forward again, carefully slicing the young hunter's jeans open from knee to the tip of his leg and pulling the fabric apart. Sam winced but never made a sound. Doc turned to the only man left standing behind him, all the others apparently gone back into the building. "Christian, check that one's chest," he ordered, jerking his head towards Dean. "And hey, Blondie," he snapped at Jo. "Can you tend a wound?"

Jo's face darkened at his condescending tone but she answered in a civil tone. "Yes."

"Then see to your girl's arm," he commanded, gesturing to where Tasha sat quietly on the other side of Dean. "And check her for concussion."

Hurt and weary, the three injured hunters didn't put up a fight as the strangers cleaned and bandaged their wounds. Doc worked quietly and efficiently on Sam, who appeared to be in the worst shape, needing several stitches in the deepest of the gashes on his outer thigh. Jo determined Tasha might have a very mild concussion where her head hit the wall but would otherwise be fine. She went to work cleaning the cuts on her arm before closing them neatly with butterfly bandages.

The man seeing to Dean's injuries didn't have Doc's reassuring bedside manner, however, and grumbled the entire time about being stuck out here like a fucking Red Cross volunteer when he should be inside. He wasn't overly gentle as he slapped dressing on Dean's chest and taped a bandage over it and it was all Dean could do to keep from punching the guy. But they were in no condition to fight even two of these guys, especially when the hippie-looking dude had a needle in Sam's thigh.

"You guys hunters then?" Dean ground out in a friendly voice as he could manage, his pride now hurting worse than the gashes on his chest and shoulder.

Christian finished up and tossed Dean's bloody, ripped shirt back at him, leaving the remaining cuts for the hunter to tend himself. "Oh, we're way more than that," he sneered.

"I'm assuming you aren't civilians," Doc interjected, not taking his attention off his injured patient as he stitched carefully. "Though you might as well be walking into a building crawling with Daevas with just a couple of stick flares."

Dean bristled at the underhanded reprimand and clenched his teeth so he wouldn't say something he regretted while these guys had the tactical advantage.

"They're not civs," came a quiet voice from a blonde man who had appeared around the open doors of the van on Tasha's side. He was about Dean's age, maybe a year or two older, and was carrying a large rifle with a high-intensity flashlight mounted on the barrel. His dark glasses were pushed up on his forehead to reveal sharp, blue eyes and a boyish face. "They're hunters." He looked down at the brunette whose arm Jo was just finishing wrapping in a clean bandage. "Hi Tash."

Tasha squinted up at him, her vision obviously still bleary. "Mark?" she gasped in surprise when recognition hit her.

He smiled. "You look like crap."

"Gee, thanks," she rolled her eyes at him, smiling briefly back at him before her face grew serious again. "Mark, what's going on here? Who are all these guys?"

He was about to reply when Dean cut him off, aiming his question at Tasha. "You know this guy?"

She nodded. "Yeah, this is Mark Campbell. He's a hunter."

A dark-haired girl in her late twenties appeared next to the blond man, her eyes narrowed at Tashanad her arms folded across her chest. "Well, look who it is," she said snidely. "So you're alive, after all."

"Try not to sound so disappointed," Tasha frowned.

"It's just nice to finally know one way or another."

Tasha sighed, ignoring the apparent dig. "And this is Mark's cousin, Gwen Campbell," she said to Dean. "Also a hunter."

Dean nodded to the cousins. "Dean Winchester," he said by way of introduction, debating whether or not it would be childish and insecure to elaborate that he was Tasha's boyfriend in light of the concerned look the blond man was now giving her. He refrained. "This is my brother Sam and our friend Jo," he said simply.

"Winchester?" the guy named Christian interjected, eying Sam and Dean with renewed interest. "Sam and Dean Winchester. As in Samuel's grandkids?"

That was a strange comment to make. Dean narrowed his eyes at Christian. "What do you know about my grandfather?" he demanded.

Christian snorted. "A lot more than you," he said snidely. "Considering I work with him every day."

"Christian!" Gwen snapped, giving him a warning glare.

"Our grandfather's been dead since before we were born," Sam informed him.

"Not anymore, he's not."

Doc straightened up and turned to shake his head at Christian. "You and your big fucking mouth," he muttered, rummaging through his med kit bag for more bandage tape. "You're in deep shit with the boss now."

"What does that mean?" Dean demanded, his mind racing with possibilities. Normally, he would have dismissed the remark but after all he'd seen in the past few years, he wasn't counting anything out. "Are you saying Samuel's alive?"

"As alive as you or me." Christian shrugged and fired a _'fuck-off'_   look at Gwen and Doc.

Both Winchesters turned their heads towards the building. "And he's here?" Dean demanded, pushing himself to his feet. "Inside?"

Doc shook his head, holding an arm up in front of the alarmed hunter and trying to sit him back down. "No, he ain't here," he assured him. "And I ain't supposed to be letting you three back in there. Orders are to patch you up and send you on your way."

"There were at least three Daevas in there," Sam interjected. "But you flashed them away so what are your men doing in there still?"

"Just leave it to the professionals, Winchester," Christian sneered. "We already had to rescue you ladies once."

Dean was _really_   not liking this guy.

Christian's radio crackled on his belt. " _Bring the vans round front_ ," came an authoritative voice. " _We're ready_."

Doc pressed the last of the tape to Sam's leg and stepped back, tossing everything hastily back in his kit. "Kay, that's me done. Gotta go," he said, gesturing for his three patients to get out of the back of his van.

Dean helped Sam to his feet but when he turned to do the same for Tasha, he was annoyed to see Mark already doing it, his hand under her elbow to steady her. His jaw clenched at the sight but he turned back to address Doc.

"Wait, we want to see Samuel."

Doc shook his head. "Well he doesn't want to see you," he replied simply, closing the van doors and nodding to the others to get moving. "Try to keep those wounds clean."

"We're his grandsons!" Dean yelled, getting angry. If it really was Samuel Campbell, he would want to see Mary's sons.

Gwen, Christian, and Mark were moving away also but Tasha grabbed Mark's arm. "Mark, hang on," she said, waiting until he turned to face her. "We'll just find him anyway, you know that. The cat's already out of the bag. Can't you take us to see him?"

He gave her a long, unreadable look.

"Please?" she added.

Mark glanced at Doc and shrugged. "She's right. Now that they know he's alive, they'll find him eventually. I'll take them in," he offered. "You guys can take the vans where they need to go."

Gwen snorted loudly and rolled her eyes. "Unbelievable," she muttered, clearly disapproving of Mark's change in position.

Doc held Mark's gaze for a second before doing the same with Dean. "Call it in first," he said finally to the blond man. "You and Gwen both go but take their cars."

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me," Gwen complained but shut up quickly when Doc gave her a sharp look.

Christian smirked as he got in the driver's door of the first van and drove away, Doc following him in the second vehicle. Gwen groaned loudly but turned to Dean. "So where's your ride?"

Dean pointed to the Impala and the Challenger parked just down the street and addressed Mark firmly when he spoke. "You ride with me."

Tasha threw him a nervous look at the suggestion, which Dean returned by giving her an exaggerated shrug of innocence. He couldn't deny he was curious just how she knew Mark. He'd never figured himself for the jealous type but ... but his instincts were telling him they hadn't just worked a hunt together.

Tasha rolled her eyes and turned to Jo. "You good to drive?" she asked, tossing the blonde the keys to her Dodge when she got a nod in response. "Good. Can you take Sam with you? I think I should ride with Dean and our guests."

Jo didn't quite manage to hide her amused smirk as she helped Sam to the passenger side of the red muscle car.

Mark got in the front seat of the Impala, his rifle perched on the floor and held between his knees, leaving Gwen and Tasha to sit together in the back seat. Dean was simply directed towards Highway 25 north while Gwen made a phone call. The person on the other end, presumably Samuel, was clearly not pleased but agreed to allow the cousins to bring the Winchesters to their base of operations outside of Billings, Montana.

The drive was quiet for the first three hours. Dean tried to make strained but polite conversation from time to time with the blond man riding shotgun but got mostly one or two word answers in return and very little information was volunteered on how Samuel was alive after all these years. Gwen pretty much sat sulking in the back seat, arms folded and staring out the window the whole time. Besides being cranky from the pain in his chest and shoulder, Dean wasn't particularly impressed that neither Tasha nor Mark were offering any explanation of their apparent history but his pride simply wouldn't allow him to ask.

Finally, a half hour from Billings, Mark turned in his seat until his blue eyes landed on Tasha. "So Tash, what about Diego?" he asked.

"He's dead," Tasha told him. "Dean killed him," she elaborated, stressing Dean's name and making the hunter behind the wheel wonder if he seemed so insecure that she felt the need to reassure him.

Mark just nodded. "That's good. I kept looking but ... nothing."

"So are you related to Samuel?" Tasha asked. "Are you the same Campbells?"

It was Gwen who answered, speaking for the first time the entire trip. "Yeah. Way I can figure it, me and Christian are Sam and Dean's third cousins, Doc's their second, Johnny's in there somehow, and Mark here's like fourth or fifth or something."

"Whoa, hold up," Dean interjected. "So we're all related?"

"Looks that way." Gwen gave Tasha a sidelong glance. "Keeping it in the family, huh?"

"Fuck off, Gwen. It had nothing to do with you."

Dean smirked. Tasha had never been one to back down or hold her tongue. But it did make him that much more curious.

Tasha directed her question to the quiet man in the front seat again. "Why is Samuel is getting the Campbells together? And since when do hunters work in such large groups?"

"Well, when a guy comes back from the dead after thirty years, it's gotta mean something right?" Mark answered. "He can be pretty convincing when he's asking you to join him. This wasn't even half of us that you saw today. We have upwards of thirty hunters at the compound. You must have noticed the way things are getting strange in the supernatural world these days, right? Samuel's trying to get to the bottom of it."

Dean resisted the urge to say " _wow, it talks"_   and remained quiet, grateful for the first real information they were being given.

"Us Campbells have been hunters for generations, Dean," Gwen chimed in. "Did you know there were Campbells on the Mayflower, kicking monster ass before the good ol' US of A even existed."

Dean was disturbed by the fact that he had never known this. John Winchester sure had done a bang-up job of keeping his sons in the dark.

"You'd be blown away by the things Samuel knows," Gwen continued, for once her sarcastic tone absent. "He's the most informed hunter I've ever met by a long shot. He's even got cures for vampires, werewolves, djinn ... all sorts of things."

"There are no cures for those things," Dean argued, thinking suddenly of Sam and Madison and hoping like Hell his little brother never found out if it was indeed true.

"As long as you get it before the vic turns completely, Samuel says it can usually be cured," Gwen supplied.

"Well if there _are_   cures, then how does every hunter not know about them?" Dean demanded.

"They died with Samuel," Mark said simply.

"What about now?"

"He keeps things in the family," Gwen gloated. "As in _Campbells_."

"Dean's closer family to Samuel Campbell than you are, Gwen," Tasha pointed out sternly.

"Who or what brought Samuel back?" Dean interjected, not wanting things between the women to escalate.

There was a moment of silence before Mark finally shrugged. "We'll let Samuel answer that one," he said simply.

It was dark when they pulled into a guarded, fenced-in compound with a number of buildings clustered in the center. Jo and Sam were right behind them in the Challenger and all four visitors were ushered in through an industrial side door and told to wait in what looked like a large mess hall. Gwen and Mark disappeared to return a few minutes later behind Samuel Campbell himself. The older, bald man walked through the back doors, looking exactly like Dean remembered.

He strode up to Dean with a friendly enough smile but stopped short when Dean took a wary step backwards.

"Alright, I get it," Samuel nodded. "Figures you'd need some proof. Got any silver on you? Holy water?"

Tasha handed Dean her silver knife and he in turn handed it to his grandfather along with a flask of holy water. Samuel cut himself on the arm for all to see and took a long, slow drink from the flask.

"Satisfied?" he asked.

Dean still had a stunned look on his face but he strode forward and pulled Samuel into a quick hug. When he moved back, Samuel smiled at him.

"You didn't mention you were my grandson last time we met," he chastised, his tone still friendly. He looked over to Sam. "And this must be..."

"Sam," the younger Winchester offered nervously, stepping up to give his grandfather an awkward hug also.

"Mary's youngest," Samuel said softly. "Nice to meet you, finally." He looked Sam up and down, frowning at the blood on his shirt and his bloody, ripped jeans. "You look like Hell, son."

Sam shrugged. "Three Daevas," was all he said.

Their grandfather turned back to Dean, still frowning. "I heard. What were you thinking going in there improperly armed?" He shook his head. "Shoulda known that good-for-nothing father of yours wouldn't have trained you right."

"Hey," Dean interjected, even more upset at the slight to his father than his own skills. "We were doing just fine until your men jumped our person outside and distracted us." He caught Jo looking down almost shamefully at the comment and made a mental note to assure her later that it wasn't her fault.

Samuel looked like he was going to argue but Sam cut him off. "I have a question," the young hunter said. "Supposedly you knew who we were and you've been back well over a month so why didn't you contact us?"

Dean gave his grandfather an accusing look also. "Yeah. Way I hear it, you specifically told your people _not_   to tell us."

Samuel exhaled slowly. "That's true. Look, when I got flung back here, I wasn't sure what was going on. I don't know how I got brought back or why. Then I got filled in on the whole Apocalypse thing and what you boys had gone through. I figured you'd done your share. I didn't want you involved. I still don't."

"Didn't want us involved?" Dean was baffled. "We got a habit of getting a front row seat to this crap so I hate to tell you this, Gramps, but we're already involved."

"I'm just trying to find out what's going down with monsters these days, why they're all out of sorts. I don't want you and your brother dragged into it."

"We're hunters," Sam interjected. "I mean, we're trying to figure out what's up these days too. Maybe we can work together."

"Mary wouldn't want you involved," Samuel said more sternly. He turned towards Dean. "The last thing she would have wanted would be for me to haul you into this and you know it."

"Mom's not here and it's way too late for us anyway," Dean told him.

"That was John's doing," Samuel argued. "I won't have your blood on my hands." He looked over at Tasha and Jo. "So are these your better halves, then?" he asked before his grandsons could argue further.

Dean hesitated to answer, taking a subconscious step between the girls and the three Campbells. Something was gnawing at his instincts, telling him his newly-found relatives were hiding something. He reluctantly introduced Tasha and Jo and was about to suggest that he, Sam, and their grandfather go somewhere a little more private to catch up properly when Samuel announced they had better get going.

"What? We just got here?"

"Yeah, I know and I promise, I'll make some time to catch up later but right now I have some important things to deal with."

Sam's expression told Dean his little brother was having the same doubts and reservations he was. "What kind of things?" the younger Winchester demanded.

"It was nice to see you two." Samuel wrapped up firmly, ignoring the question. "I'll keep in touch. Gwen'll show you out." With that he turned and left the room.

Sam, Dean, Tasha and Jo were led out by Gwen and wasted no time getting into the cars and leaving but Dean pulled over into the parking lot of a motel barely ten minutes away. "Something shady's going on here," he said in response to the questioning looks he was getting. "And I'm not leaving until I find out what it is."

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**


	4. Cloudy Allegiances

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

Just a couple of minutes after the four hunters pulled over to express their suspicions about the Winchesters' newly-resurrected grandfather and his shady crew of hunters, Samuel Campbell drove past in an older model pick-up truck. Dean lowered his head, gesturing to the others to do the same, and hoped the people in the truck hadn't noticed them. Guessing Samuel was heading out to meet up with the men and the vans from the Daeva building now that the inconvenient family reunion was taken care of, they all agreed following him would be the best move.

With both Samuel and the Davea building to stake out plus Sam to keep an eye on, Dean was feeling spread a little thin. He and Tasha headed back to the building in Casper to keep their eyes open for signs of Crowley's demons, a task the hunter just couldn't trust Sam with yet, while Bobby agreed to meet up with Sam and Jo as they tailed Samuel in the Impala.

Ten minutes later found Dean behind the wheel of Tasha's Challenger, heading south and hoping like hell he could trust Jo to not let Sam out of her sight until Bobby got there. He was still debating the wisdom of splitting up when he turned to steal a glance at the brunette sitting quietly beside him.

"So," he ventured, "you and Mark, huh?"

She gave him a one-shouldered shrug. "It was a long time ago."

"Guy's creepy.  Doesn't exactly talk much, does he?"

"We didn't exactly do much talking."

He screwed up his face in distaste. "Ouch. Overshare."

She laughed. "It's not like you thought I was a virgin, Dean." She gave him an amused look before shaking her head at him. "It was like a three week fling, that's it," she told him sincerely.

Dean nodded but his shoulders remained stiff. _Fine_ , _it was before he was in the picture but that didn't mean he had to like it._ He thought she had pretty much told him everything and she had never mentioned Mark before. He pursed his lips when she laughed out loud at him, punching him playfully on the arm and enjoying his apparent jealousy a little too much.

"He was a hunter," she finally elaborated with a roll of her eyes. "I was nineteen at the time so I'd only been hunting by myself for like a year and then he came along – older, experienced, and he had that silent and broody bad boy thing going on. I mean, what can I say? I was young and impressionable. It wasn't anything serious and it didn't last long - a couple of hunts, that's it."

She paused and smiled at him. "You know you have nothing to worry about, right?"

"Do I look worried to you?" he scoffed, allowing himself a laugh. He did know that. He had never actually doubted that. He grinned when her hand glided over his thigh, rubbing gently and she leaned over to nuzzle his neck.

"Of course, maybe I should get you to prove it to me," he chuckled mischievously, shrugging off the whole thing with one last, fleeting wish that it hadn't turned out to be his own cousin she had a history with, however short-lived.

Cas showed up in the back seat thirty seconds later, winging in as usual with no warning and causing Dean to wonder briefly if the angel took the time to check what everyone was doing before showing up unannounced. It wasn't exactly like he and Tasha had never been 'indecent' in the car before, even while driving. Luckily this time she was behaving and both of them were still completely dressed.

"Hey Cas," he greeted his friend in response to the loud throat-clearing the couple was given. He was glad Cas couldn't see the look of annoyance on Tasha's face as she quickly sat up straight and pursed her lips. It might have bothered him but he had seen firsthand just how close Tasha and Cas had been in the other timeline and knew she would warm up to him eventually this time around also. "Where've you been, dude?" he questioned the blue eyes in his rear-view mirror. "There were Daevas at that house but no sign of demons."

He explained the appearance of the Campbells and the apparent resurrection of Samuel Campbell but Cas had heard nothing about it. The angel did have an update on the Daeva building, however. Apparently the sigils were all gone and the place was now completely empty, with no signs of Daevas nor demons. "They must have moved on," the angel stated.

Realizing there was no longer any point in staking out the place, Dean turned the car around while Cas informed them of a new lead he had on Crowley. He had found a demon in New Jersey who had directed him to another in Nevada in hopes of escaping the angel's wrath. Cas smote him anyway but was now going to Nevada to check out the information. Looking decidedly displeased at the loss of the Daeva lead, the angel told them he would also try and see if he could learn who or what had brought Samuel back from his thirty-five year grave before he disappeared as quickly as he had shown up.

"He's always so serious," Tasha commented when they found themselves alone again.

"He wants to clear up all this supernatural mayhem before we have our kids," Dean explained. "He wants them to be safe." He gave her a lopsided smile. "And he wants _you_ to be safe."

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

Sam and Jo had to ease back from tailing Samuel so as not to get caught by the trained hunter, who had both Gwen and Mark in the truck with him. Fortunately, the Campbells had made a pit stop for gas near the border and Sam had managed to slip one of the Winchesters' many cell phones with the GPS turned on into the truck box so they could track them from a safer distance.

They were headed east along the I94 just inside North Dakota when Bobby caught up with them, Dean and Tasha a half hour later. Shortly before dawn, Samuel's truck finally came to a stop just past Bismarck. The Chevelle being the only car not recognizable to the Campbells, the Winchester brothers hopped in with Bobby to drive past the location shown on the planted GPS. It looked like a hospital or institution of sorts, long since abandoned but with chainlink fencing still intact around the entire place. One of the vans from the Daeva building, the one Christian had been driving, was parked out front next to Samuel's truck. A couple of guards with rifles could be seen patrolling the perimeter.

"What kind of hunters need armed guards everywhere they go?" Dean groused. "And why do they need _two_   military-looking compounds?"

"Ain't nobody arguin' yer new kin's all kinds of shady," Bobby agreed. "I've been askin' around and word is your Granddaddy's in charge and he tends to keep it in the family."

"Well he didn't exactly welcome _us_   with open arms," Sam said wryly. "Practically threw us out."

Dean stole a glance at his little brother just in time to catch the brief hurt look that crossed his face. It occurred to him that Sam didn't remember their mom and, unlike Dean, he never got the chance to travel back in time to meet their grandparents or their younger parents. No, Sam's only experiences with blood family were a tumultuous relationship with their father and the complicated bond he shared with Dean that even though it was strong, was far from normal. He'd never known anything else and, judging by the look on his expressive face right now, he had been excited by the possibility of changing that.

"So what do we do now?" Dean questioned.

Bobby shrugged. "I say we watch the place. It's almost dawn and we ain't gettin' in there without the cover of darkness so we sit tight and watch and we figure out what these Campbells are up to. If we still don't know by tomorrow night, we go in."

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

With three of them still battered and hurting from the Daeva fight, the hunters were actually glad for the chance to recuperate a bit during the restful day spent watching the facility. Their rotating shifts of surveillance, however, had produced very little evidence of what was going on inside by the following night. The guards outside swapped out every four hours like clockwork but nobody came or went from the property. At one point, Jo thought she heard inhuman screeching coming from inside but she was on watch with Bobby, whose older ears didn't pick up anything and she wasn't entirely sure.

They were just preparing to leave their covert vantage point in an abandoned pump house across the street and attempt to break into the facility when there was a sudden bustle of activity. They watched as eight people, including Christian, Samuel, Mark, and Gwen tumbled into the van and the truck and took off down the road at full speed.

They hustled to their own cars, which were hidden off the road in the bushes, and raced down the road after them. Without the benefit of the GPS-tracking cell in Samuel's truck this time, following them was harder to do while keeping enough of a distance that they weren't seen. They tailed them through the night but lost them in the busier streets of Cheyenne, Wyoming just after dawn.

Cursing, Dean circled the streets near where they had last seen the van. He was in the Impala with his brother in the passenger seat, both of them straining their eyes to see down every sidestreet and alley in hopes of catching a glimpse of the Campbells. Finally, just when they were about to give up, Sam cried out and pointed out his window. Dean pulled over quickly behind the cover of a leafy tree and some shrubs.

The van and the truck were both there but so was the other van from the Daeva house plus a couple more trucks. They were all parked in front of a large, older home that was set back quite a distance from the road, the closest neighbors a few hundred yards away. They could hear sporadic gunfire coming from the house and flashes of bright lights could be seen in the windows. Dean went for his door handle but Sam put a restraining hand on his arm.

"Dean, wait," he said urgently. "We don't know what they're up against in there. That and there could be thirty of them and most of them don't know us. Let's just wait and see what happens."

Dean grumbled out loud but couldn't argue with his brother's logic. He'd already been rescued by these dicks once; he certainly didn't want to give them a chance to do it again by jumping into some unknown situation unprepared. Instead he called Bobby, Jo, and Tasha in the other two cars with the radios and gave them the address, warning them to stay out of sight.

It wasn't more than a few minutes later that at least fifteen hunters came pouring out of the building. Some looked seriously hurt but a couple that were being carried over the shoulders of their comrades looked dead.

"Crap," Sam hissed quietly, wondering if he had just lost two relatives he hadn't known existed.

Then six of them came out the front door together, all carrying a large, ornate box with handles on the sides. It looked like it was made of iron and had strange markings burned or painted onto every square inch of its surface.

"Those markings are Zoroastrian," Sam announced with a frown. "See that one that looks like a lopsided TIE-fighter? That's a Daeva marking, for sure. Daevas are really old shadow demons from at least 2000BC so they can be bound and some of those symbols look like binding sigils."

"Nerd," came Tasha's voice over the radio. Dean just grinned.

They watched quietly as the box, measuring at least five feet on all sides, was carried towards one of the vans. It started to shake at one point and two more men came rushing over to help muscle it into the open van doors.

"What the Hell was that?" came Jo's voice from where she sat with Bobby in his Chevelle.

"It's alive!" Sam exclaimed, his hazel eyes wide with shock. "They've caught one alive."

"Why would they want to do that?" Dean demanded.

"That's playing with fire," Bobby snarled. "If you see a monster, you kill it. That's just common sense."

The Campbells loaded up into their vehicles hastily and started to pull out into the street. The Winchesters and company watches as the group split into two, with Samuel's truck and the van containing the mystery box turned one way and the rest of the crew headed in the opposite direction.

"Crap," Dean growled. "Bobby, you and Jo go left, follow those ones. Looks like they're heading either back to the main compound or that other facility." He narrowed his eyes as he steered the Impala to the right. "I'm following that box. Hey Tash..."

"Right behind ya," the brunette replied, not giving him a chance to send her with Bobby and Jo.

Dean's face pulled into a lopsided smile. "Just checking," he said into the radio.

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

Bobby and Jo followed their Campbells back to the compound in Billings. Among them were Gwen, Doc, and Mark. Bobby had been checking into the addresses of both the compound and the more remote facility in Bismark and started to get calls back from his contacts. Turns out both places were owned by some cagey-sounding company that seemed to Bobby was nothing more than a dummy corporation. How Samuel got his hands on these places after only being back with the living for about a month was a complete mystery.

Meanwhile, the Impala and the Challenger followed the box. It was daylight though and the drivers being tailed were certainly trained hunters and knew how to avoid being followed. After a couple of close calls, it was mid afternoon when they finally lost them for good, just south of Grand Island, Nebraska.

Disappointed and stiff from endless hours sitting in the cars, the three of them gave up and stopped at a diner to eat. Sam immediately acquired the unwanted attention of the forty-something waitress as he made his way to the booth with a slight limp. He spent the meal in weary silence, trying his hardest to ignore the sarcastic encouragement he was getting from the pair sitting across from him to make a move on their server. After the third MILF crack and at least the sixth cougar comment, he was actually pleased when Cas popped into the seat next to him, even if the angel was sitting uncomfortably close.

"Cas!" Dean exclaimed in surprise, glancing warily around the diner to make sure the trench-coated newcomer's supernatural appearance hadn't been noticed while Sam scooted himself over on the seat. "What's going on, dude? Tell me you got something on dear old Grandad."

Cas shook his head. "No, but I did find out where Crowley could be. There is a place in Lincoln."

"Lincoln, Illinois or Lincoln, Nebraska?" Sam asked.

"Or Lincoln, Rhode Island?" Tasha added.

"Nebraska," Cas elaborated, turning his blue eyes on the brunette sitting across from him. "The same city in which you killed your first vampire," he added, giving her a slight smile.

"How do you know..." Tasha cut herself off, remembering again that Cas had five years worth of memories with her that she didn't have. It still creeped her out and she wondered what else he knew about her. She hadn't even had the chance to share that first-kill vampire story with Dean yet so it was strange to find out that she had shared it with the weird guy in the trench coat with no sense of personal space.

"Okay, what's Crowley doing in Lincoln?" Dean interjected, knowing Cas's one-sided familiarity still bothered his long-time loner of a girlfriend. She just needed a little time to adjust to the fact that she had actually let someone in besides Dean.

"I don't know," Cas admitted, "But he has a large house there that he frequents. I cannot enter because he has wards against angels in place but if you remove a few of the key sigils for me, I can go in and retrieve the Colt for you and hopefully find out what Crowley has been up to."

Dean nodded, waving to the waitress to bring over the tab. "Sounds good," he agreed. "Only we're coming in with you."

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

"Fuck," Tasha grumbled as she concentrated on walking straight in the heels and short skirt. "Jo should be here doing this part. I fucking hate heels." She made her way up to the gate of the large, walled-in estate and pressed the buzzer. When two guards appeared, her damsel in distress routine had the gate open in seconds but no sooner was she ushered inside than the guards dropped their good Samaritan pretence and turned on her, licking their lips and roaming their black, hungry eyes. Ruby's knife was out of her purse and in the neck of the closest demon before she even saw Sam and Dean slip through the gate behind him and pin the second demon while she sank the knife into his gut.

"Nice work, babe," Dean grinned, exaggeratingly looking her up and down. "You should dress like that all the time."

Tasha snorted, reaching down to pull the shoes off her feet and tossing them into the grass. She had spent much of her youth in Central and South America and was used to bare feet but she could never get used to walking in heels. "Yeah, coz kicking demon ass in a skirt that barely covers my underwear makes _so_   much sense."

"Lara Croft does it," Dean smirked as she handed Ruby's knife back to him. "And Sailor Moon."

"Lara Croft wears _shorts_."

"Not in the version I like."

"You and your anime porn fetish. You know that's..."

"Uh, guys?" Sam cut in, his hands turned upwards in disbelief at the bad timing for their flirty banter. "Crowley, the Colt, uh demons..."

"Yeah, yeah," Dean rolled his eyes, pulling out his cell phone to call Cas. "Okay, we're in," he said into the phone. "Where are these sigils we need to wipe out to get you in here?"

Cas directed them to spray-paint a large area on the gate as well as a few spots on the side of the house and finally the front door. The last one involved taking out another of Crowley's demon guards, a task easily done by Cas, who had winged himself into the yard to stand next to them and simply placed his hand on the demon's face.

They slipped quietly in the front door in single file and began searching the huge house. There was nothing on the main level or upstairs but Cas's eyes widened as soon as Dean opened a door in the kitchen with a set of stairs heading down to a cellar. "There are demons down there," he announced in a grave voice.

"Perfect," Dean said, gripping the knife and leading the way down the stairway.

Like the house above, the cellar was huge. There was a commotion coming from a wooden door past a large wall-sized wine rack that was extremely well-stocked with both wine and whiskey. The brothers headed straight for it but Cas got there first by flashing out and in. Ignoring Dean's muttered " _cheater_ ", Cas threw the door open and strode through, killing the first demon in his path with his deadly angel touch.

The hunters followed him into a large room with markings on the walls and the floor and two demons standing near the center. Dean recognized one of them instantly. "That's Crowley!" he warned, pointing to the one without an alarmed look on his face.

Crowley just smirked at them as they entered the room. "Well, I'll be damned. You must be the Winchesters," he sneered before glancing at Cas. "And their little pet."

Cas strode forward towards the demon, smiting the lackey who tried to stop him without even breaking his stride. Crowley didn't flinch as the angel approached but instead just stood there with an almost eager expression. He pulled the lighter from his pocket and flicked it so quickly the hunters didn't even see it happen. It wasn't until the ring of fire sprang up all around Cas that they realized what had occurred.

Unable to breach the circle of flames, Cas stopped short and glowered at the demon. Sam and Dean, however, jumped into action instantly, both lunging towards the man in the dark suit. "Break the circle!" Dean shouted at Tasha. She and Sam had never seen the holy oil ring before but Dean knew how powerful it could be. After all, in the other timeline, it had held Raphael, an archangel way farther up the celestial food chain than little Ol' Cas. He knew their angel sidekick would be completely trapped as long as the flames were burning.

Before he got the chance to sink Ruby's knife into the demon, Dean felt himself flung through the air by an invisible force. He slammed back-first into the cement behind him with a painful grunt and looked up to see both Sam and Tasha pinned against the wall also, Cas's fiery prison still intact.

 _Damnit, Crowley and his demon mojo_.

Crowley clapped his hands slowly and took a few slow, steps forward, a gloating smirk on his face. He strolled around Cas's circle, eyeing the captured angel triumphantly before turning to look back and forth between Sam and Dean. He paid no attention to Tasha, who was pressed up against the wall between the brothers.

"Well I'm gonna go out on a limb and say the giant woolly mammoth one over here is Sam," he said finally in a thick, English accent. "And you must be Dean." He nodded at the elder Winchester. "Thanks, by the way. From what I hear, if it wasn't for you, we'd have Lucifer topside right now and I'd still be merely a crossroads demon. King of Hell has a much nicer ring to it, don't you think?"

"Don't get used to it," Dean fired back.

"Dean, look!" Sam called him. He glanced over to his brother, who was pinned twenty feet away, and followed his gaze to a large box on the floor on the other side of the room. It looked exactly like the box the Campbells had carried out of that building in Cheyenne this morning.

He mirrored Sam's puzzled expression. "Where did you get that?" he demanded of Crowley, his mind reeling with the possibility that Samuel could have been attacked and possibly hurt by demons or worse, that his own grandfather could have willingly handed it over.

Before Crowley could answer, Sam cut in again. "It's open," he pointed out.

"You let a Daeva loose!" Tasha exclaimed, looking around the room wildly. Dean knew how she felt. Demons were dangerous but at least you could see them coming. Being attacked by the invisible shadow creatures had been terrifying, an experience he didn't particularly want to repeat.

Crowley scoffed. "Loose? Do I look like an idiot?"

"Well, now that you mention it..."

Dean's wisecrack was cut-off when he was jerked forward and slammed back against the wall with enough force he could practically feel his bones rattle.

"It's dead," Cas deadpanned from inside the circle. He raised his finger and pointed to the floor next to the box, where the hunters could only see a smeared patch of blood on the ground. _That's right, Dean remembered. Angels could see Daevas_. "The Daeva Alpha is dead," Cas elaborated.

"Alpha?" Sam gasped.

"Tell me, Crowley," Cas said, his voice deepening. "What do you want with the Alphas?"

Crowley laughed again and picked up a jar of dark, red liquid. "Just needed a few pints of this."

"Blood? What for?" Cas pressed, his fists clenched at his sides in frustration at being trapped so helplessly.

"Ahhh, not just blood, Angel-pup. _Alpha_   blood. The blood of a native."

"A native of what?" Sam asked, brow knitted in confusion.

"Of Purgatory, of course."

"Purgatory?" the three pinned hunters repeated in unison.

"Give the humans a cookie," Crowley jeered, clearly enjoying having the upper hand as much as the sound of his own voice. "See, you need the blood of a native to open a gate to Purgatory. The Daeva Alpha is possibly the weakest Alpha of the lot and definitely wouldn't have been my first choice but," he shrugged, "you take what you can get these days. It does mean this door won't be enough for my grand finale, though. It probably won't last more than a few minutes so it'll be more like a test run." He smirked in turn at all four of his captives. "As it turns out, you lot interrupting my little party turned out to be perfect timing."

With that he began to smear the blood from the jar on the far wall with his hand, chanting words in some unrecognizable language as he did so.

"You see," Crowley paused and turned to Sam, unable to refrain from further gloating. "You being Lucifer's vessel and all makes you a walking time bomb. Say Lilith's followers ever figure out a way to get that cage open? Can't have you just walking around, waiting to get jammed full of Morning Star, can I? Killing you would be pointless because those angel pricks would just bring you back again, even if I managed to get you downstairs and buried you in the deepest corner of hell." He drew a couple more sigils on the wall as he spoke. "Now _this_... this is a permanent solution to my problem."

"You can't!" Cas exclaimed, putting the demon's plan together faster than the hunters.

Crowley glanced at Cas. "Don't worry, sweetcheeks. After I give your friends here a good send-off, I'll send someone to put you out of your misery." A few more words in the strange language and there was a sudden thrum in the air. The demon's face lit up in an excited grin.

They all watched with dread as a circular blurry shape started to appear in the wall where the largest of the symbol had been drawn, struggling to break the hold the demon still had on them. The shape grew and darkened until it was a swirling vortex of darkness with specs of light throughout. The strange vibe in the air strengthened and it's increased intensity must have interfered with Crowley's mojo for the three hunters suddenly found themselves free from the invisible restraints.

Dean instantly dove for the ring of fire around Cas, knowing they didn't stand a chance without the angel free to use his mojo. He was just throwing his body over a portion of flames to break the circle, however, when he saw his worst nightmare unfold. With a flick of Crowley's hand, Sam went flying through the air, across the room, and right into the massive vortex. The last thing Dean saw of his brother was his terrified face being swallowed up by the darkness.

"SAM!" he screamed, scrambling to his feet as panic ripped through him. Crowley raised his hand towards him next and Dean suddenly felt his own body hurtling forward in to the air towards the hole also. He stopped short just a few feet along, however, as Cas stepped out of the ring and wrapped a fist in the back of his jacket, yanking him backwards and dropping him roughly at the angel's feet.

Cas immediately took a menacing step towards Crowley, whose smirk had definitely disappeared at this point.

"Oops, time to go," Crowley said before disappearing in a blink.

Without even the slightest hesitation, Cas turned from where Crowley was standing and ran instead towards the hole, diving right into the center of it and disappearing.

Dean was just a second behind him. He was about to launch himself into the blackness when he was knocked sideways off his feet. He lashed out at whatever had tackled him, desperate to help Sam, to make sure his brother wasn't facing whatever was on the other side of that hole without him. He was scrambling back to his feet when a blow was dealt to the back of his knee. As he stumbled, hands wrapped themselves around his wrist, yanking him downwards and a panicked voice tore his focus away from his single-minded mission to get to that hole.

"No! Dean! Don't!" Tasha was screaming, tugging at him for all she was worth. "Please don't! Please. Let Cas get him!"

He faltered, the fear for him that was pouring from her brown eyes giving him pause.

"You'll only make it harder for him," she was arguing desperately. "He can't save both of you! Please don't go in there! Let Cas save him."

It occurred to Dean she was right. He wouldn't be able to help Sam over there, but maybe Cas could. His instinct had always been to save Sam at all costs and that instinct had been known to cloud his judgement and completely disregard his own safety as well as logic and rational thought and the smarter plan. He swallowed and a choked whimper escaped him but he stopped fighting against her pull on his arm.

Cas would save Sam. He had to believe that. Dean's breathing was heavy and ragged with fear and worry but he stood his ground.

He also had more than just Sam to think about now, he realized. He had Tash.

He helped the brunette to her feet and it only vaguely dawned on him that he had struck her in his panic to get to the hole. She never loosened her death grip on his hand as they stood side by side, waiting with held breath and staring at the gaping hole in the wall. A hole straight to Purgatory. A hole that had just swallowed his brother and his best friend.

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**


	5. For Whom the Bell Tolls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember this story was written before season 8 showed us what was really in Purgatory, so my version may be a little different.

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

Tasha stood clutching Dean's hand, her heart breaking with every sideways glance at him. The devastation and terror in his eyes as he stared unblinking at the hole to Purgatory in front of them would drive even the most heartless to tears. "Come on, Cas," she heard him breathe, his voice quiet and strained.

She had known the instant Sam had been thrown through that Dean would go in after him. She knew how he felt about his brother, how much Sam meant to him. She had seen it in her first week traveling with the pair and, despite the fact that the level of devotion Dean exhibited would no doubt be considered unhealthy by most psychologists, she had found it endearing. It had shown her a depth of love she had only ever seen in her father and it had renewed her fading beliefs and memories of what family should be. It had undoubtedly been one of the things that had made her fall in love with Dean and she wouldn't change it about him for the world but...

But now it was the very thing that was threatening to take him away from her and she couldn't let that happen. She was terrified for Sam right now, but she just couldn't bear to lose Dean. The knowledge that he would hate her and resent her for stopping him if Cas didn't get Sam out of there was circling around in the back of her mind but she paid it no heed. She couldn't let him go in there. She couldn't let him die in there. She just couldn't let go of his hand.

"Fuck!" he exclaimed suddenly, his voice cracking and his body tensing even more. "It's closing!" He glanced at her, his eyes wide with fear and took a step forward. "It's closing!"

It was. The hole was getting smaller. Crowley had said it would only last a few minutes. She tightened the grip on his hand so hard she was sure she was drawing blood. "No, Dean," she half-sobbed at him, tugging him backwards desperately.

"I can't leave them in there," he told her, resisting her pull.

"No! Cas'll get them out. He's an angel. He's..." The dark opening shimmered and started to fade in its intensity. Her time was running out. She knew this was a low blow but she went for it. "If you go in there, I'm coming in right after you!" she blurted. He would do anything for his brother but he wouldn't condemn her and she wasn't beneath using that.

She realized her mistake instantly. His hand shifted so he was gripping her wrist instead of the other way around and he turned to face her. "I'm sorry," he said sincerely.

 _Shit_. He was going to make sure she couldn't follow him. She braced herself and got ready to fight, knowing she really didn't stand a chance against him but praying she could delay him just long enough.

Before he could strike, however, there was a gust of wind from the hole and a large mass with flashes of plaid shirt and beige trench coat flew out, landing on the floor in a heap at their feet.

"Sam!" Dean was on his knees in a heartbeat, pulling his brother out of the tangle of limbs. "Sam? Cas?"

Tasha spared a glance behind them to see the hole disappear completely before dropping to the floor also, relieved beyond words that the uncomfortable thrum was gone and the air in the room was now still with everybody accounted for.

"Sam?" Dean was calling, feeling for a pulse already on his unmoving brother's neck. "Sammy?"

She swallowed her fear at Sam's lack of response and reached out to roll Cas over onto his back. His eyes were closed also and his body was limp. She mirrored Dean's actions and placed two fingers on the angel's neck, not sure if he was supposed to feel as cold as he did.

"Sam's pulse is good," Dean announced, tapping his brother's cheek in an attempt to wake him. He glanced up at Tasha. "How about him?" he nodded towards Cas.

"I dunno," she admitted, her fingers shaking and making finding a beat difficult. "Do angels have a pulse?"

"No idea...but I know he does breathe," Dean offered from where he knelt with one hand unwittingly splayed gently over Sam's chest and the other fisted in the flannel shirt at his brother's shoulder, his face flooded with both relief and worry. He managed half a chuckle. "He always stands pretty close and I couldn't help but notice coz his breath is kinda minty."

She leaned down over Cas's face and held her own breath for a few seconds before sitting back up with a grin. "You're right," she told Dean. "Minty fresh. He's alive."

They sat there for a while, checking and rechecking the two unconscious men on the floor, all-out panic slowly giving way to nagging worry as time passed and neither Sam nor Cas showed any signs of waking up. After ten minutes that felt more like ten hours, Dean decided they needed to get out of there before Crowley or any of his demon lackeys decided to return. He grunted in effort and grumbled about the enormity of his 'little' brother as he carried him outside and laid him out in the back seat of the Impala before coming back inside to get Cas.

"You wanna get a motel room close by and let them sleep it off?" Tasha asked him as Dean dropped the angel down on the back seat of her Challenger. She bent Cas's knee and pushed his dangling foot inside before closing the car door carefully.

Dean shook his head. "No. Fuck Samuel and Crowley and his demons. They can wait. I don't know what Sam went through in freaking Purgatory but he really didn't need this crap right now and Cas..." Another shake of the head. "I've never seen an angel unconscious before." He sighed, rubbing his hand down across his face. "I just wanna go back to Bobby's and recupe. All this other shit can wait 'til I know they're alright."

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

It was a three and a half hour drive from Lincoln to Singer Salvage. Tasha was driving barefoot, not having bothered to put shoes on in the rush to leave Crowley's place. There was no noise save the hum of her car's engine as she drove and her eyes were fixed on the Impala's tail lights up ahead of her on the road, her thoughts heavy with worry for Sam and, a little unexpectantly, for Cas also.

The long silence was broken a few minutes out of Sioux Falls by a muffled groan from her back seat. She looked anxiously in the rear view mirror but could only make out a beige sleeve waving about. "Cas?" she queried, twisting to glance over her shoulder. "Cas, you awake?"

There was another long groan followed by a shaky "I think so."

"Are you alright?"

"No," he rasped. "No, there's something wrong."

He sounded scared. She had never heard the angel sound scared before. "What do you mean, wrong?" she asked.

"With me," was the extent of his elaboration. "What happened?"

She could hear him struggling to sit up and was thrown when his vivid blue eyes finally appeared in the rear-view mirror. They were wide and bewildered and unmistakably frightened.

"Uh, you went through that gate to Purgatory," she explained hesitantly. "After Sam. You were gone a couple of minutes then you came tumbling back through."

"Sam and Dean?" he demanded, his deep voice even raspier than it usually was.

"They're fine. They're up ahead in the Impala." She gave the angel a wan smile over her shoulder. "Sam was unconscious too but I think he's alright."

Tasha had been resistant to trust the angel for many reasons despite Dean's insistence Cas was family. Cas was the one who had ordered her to leave the Winchesters a year ago and she supposed her resentment had festered over those many months of being forced to keep apart from Dean. She had also been taught from a young age never to get close to people and never had a problem sticking to that philosophy until she met the Winchesters. Then there was Cas's sketchy track record in working for the wrong side for so long. If he betrayed the angels, his own brothers, could he not betray the Winchesters just as quickly?

But now, after seeing him jump into Purgatory to save Sam without even a split second's hesitation, she had to admit her resolve was crumbling. "You saved him, you know," she said sincerely.

He was silent for a long moment, shuffling about on the back seat and breathing irregularly. She noticed through repeated stolen glances that he kept pressing his hand to his head and his chest and even his stomach, a deep frown on his face. "Do you remember what happened over there?" she asked finally.

"In Purgatory? No."

"Cas, are you okay?" He had his hand on his heart now and his head was tilted sideways in deep concentration. "What's wrong with you?"

"I think...I think..." he stammered, closing his eyes tightly and groaning. "This can't be happening."

"What?" she pressed. "What can't be happening?"

"Tash, I no longer feel the power of Heaven."

She couldn't help but notice he was using that overly-familiar tone with her but the edginess in his voice wiped away any notions of annoyance this time. "Your angel mojo?" she asked him. Dean had explained to her that Cas had been struggling recently to accept his diminished connection to Heaven. "What, is it even weaker?"

"No," Cas replied, his voice but a whisper. "It's completely gone."

"Gone? What does that mean?"

"It means I'm ... guh ... it means I'm human."

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

Sam was still unconscious when the Impala pulled back into Bobby's ten minutes later, which was just after three am. In the other car, Tasha had been patiently trying to answer Cas's questions about all the weird stuff he was experiencing physically and had a strong suspicion he was mostly hungry. They filled Dean in as the hunter carried his younger brother into the house, nearly causing him to drop Sam in shock. He pulled himself together enough to lower the large man onto Bobby's bed-sofa by the window before turning to his friend in the trench-coat.

"What the hell happened over there, Cas?" he demanded. "And what's wrong with Sam?"

Cas was standing in the middle of Bobby's den looking weary and despondent. "I don't remember anything after jumping towards the gate," he shrugged.

"But you're **_human_** now?" Dean pressed, his face full of concern. "Are you sure? How do you know?"

"My grace is gone."

"How the fuck does that happen? Where is it? In Purgatory? How do you even ..."

"Hey, Dean, take it easy" Tasha cut in when the ex-angel started to sway. She grabbed his elbow and guided him towards the couch. "I think he needs some food."

Dean nodded, backing off slightly but his face was still drawn with concern. "Yeah that makes sense, I guess. That time when you left and we found your vessel, Jimmy, he was starved. You'd been riding him a year and you kinda forgot to feed him."

"Angels don't need to eat and I'm not Jimmy Novak," the angel pointed out meekly, allowing Tasha to manoeuver him towards the couch. "I'm still Castiel."

" _Human_   Castiel," Tasha pointed out. He lowered himself down onto the cushions but before the brunette could even turn towards the kitchen to get him something to eat, his blue eyes closed and he slumped over sideways. She tapped his cheek lightly a few times but got no response. "He's out," she sighed, straightening up and turning to face Dean.

The hunter's shoulders sagged and he gave Sam and Cas a weary look each before taking three quick strides forward and pulling Tasha into a firm hug.

"What's that for?" she asked him after a minute, slightly breathless from the tightness of his embrace.

"Well for starters, you're the only other one left standing," he quipped with a humourless smile, pulling away after planting a quick but purposeful kiss on her lips. "And I'm sorry." He winced and bit his lip before admitting something that was clearly eating at him. "I'm sorry coz I was gonna hit you tonight. I was gonna knock you out and jump in that hole."

She nodded, not reminding him that he actually _had_   hit her without realizing it right after Cas had first disappeared. "I know," she told him truthfully. "Are you pissed that I tried to stop you?"

"No." He shook his head convincingly. "No, you were right. It would have been stupid. I just ... fuck, the thought of Sam being stuck in someplace that for all we know could be as bad as hell..." He shuddered at the thought and stole a reassuring glance at his brother who thankfully looked like he was sleeping peacefully. "I just couldn't let him be there without his big brother, you know?"

"I get it, Dean," she sighed. "I do, but he's not the only one who needs you."

They were standing together in the middle of the room and he lifted his hand to her face, a display of sentiment he was only allowing himself because the other people in the room besides Tasha were unconscious. "Does it help to know that I would've done the same if it was you who'd gone through that hole?" he ventured.

She closed her hand over his and resisted melting completely. "Not really. Still ends up with you dead or in Purgatory."

He let his arm drop and rolled his shoulders, grudgingly acknowledging the truth in her words. With a tired sigh, he sank down into the large armchair next to the couch, tugging her down onto his lap by the hand. She drew her legs up over his, curling herself into his side and resting her head on his shoulder.

"Guess we just wait 'til they wake up, huh?" he said quietly, staring again in turn at Sam and Cas.

She followed his gaze. "Think he'll be alright?" she wondered out loud as they looked at the man sprawled on the couch. "As a human, I mean?"

Dean nodded, though he wasn't thoroughly convinced. He remembered his brief stint in 2014 when Cas had been ninety nine percent human and a hundred percent lost. A perpetually-stoned hippie with no hope and no faith. "Yeah," he lied. "Just keep him away from the medicine cabinet."

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

When dawn arrived, Dean was still sitting quietly in the armchair, lost in his worried thoughts. Tasha had dozed off draped over him and he was simultaneously treasuring the moment and despising it at the same time. He loved the peaceful intimacy of having the woman he loved sleeping in his arms but hated that the moment came on the heels of almost losing both his brother and his best friend. There was also the fact that neither of the unconscious duo were out of the woods just yet. A stint in Purgatory, however brief, could set Sam's demon-blood recovery back weeks. As for Cas becoming human, not only were they losing the best weapon they had, but losing his Grace would be a hard pill for the angel to swallow. He had already sacrificed everything for Dean and now it seemed his friendship with the Winchesters had cost him the only thing he had left, his identity.

The chaos of last night had raised so many questions that went unanswered. Cas had told Dean that only angels were able to obtain the holy oil and that demons didn't even know about it. How then had Crowley got his hands on some? And what the fuck did he want with Purgatory? Dean hadn't even known there was a Purgatory. What was over there? If monster Alphas were natives of Purgatory, then the answer to that was 'nothing good', right?

Then there was that box. It was the Campbells who had captured that Daeva Alpha. Dean's kin. Hunters. _Humans_.  Did they deliberately give Crowley the means to open a gate to Purgatory? Were they working with him? Or had Samuel and Christian been attacked and were hurt or dead at this very moment? Bobby and Jo had followed the remaining Campbells back to their compound but the pair that had driven away with the Daeva box had yet to return.

On top of all of that, they never got the Colt. And without Cas's superpowers as back-up anymore, they could _really_ use the fucking Colt.

His musings were interrupted by movement over by the window. He gently pushed Tasha's legs off him and stood up, making his way quickly over to a stirring Sam.

Once he started to awaken, the younger Winchester came round quickly. Within a couple of minutes he was sitting up, batting his big brother's concerned hand away with a roll of the eyes. "I'm fine, Dean. Seriously, I feel fine." His hazel eyes fell on Cas sprawled on the couch twenty feet away. "What's wrong with him?" he asked.

Almost convinced his brother wasn't hiding any injuries or crippling mental traumas, Dean allowed himself to sink down in the wooden desk chair. "He lost his grace somehow," he explained. "Apparently he's human now."

Sam's face pulled into a concerned grimace. "That can't be good," he said. "No more powers? At all?"

"Doesn't look like it," Dean shrugged.

"He doesn't remember anything about Purgatory," Tasha said, taking a seat next to Sam on the sofa-bed. "Do you?"

Sam frowned. "Yeah, I remember." His right hand absently began to rub slow circles just below his ribcage. "I remember flying into that black hole and landing ... somewhere. I couldn't really see around me coz these things attacked me right away."

"Things?" Dean's voice betrayed his instinctive anger at anything attacking his brother.'

"Yeah, these dark, shadowy creatures. They were all over me."

"You don't look all that banged up," Tasha pointed out.

"It hurt like hell but in a weird way. It was like they were ripping my insides out but there was no blood or anything, just pain. Then I must have blacked out or something coz the next thing I remember, there was this bright light then Cas is there, pulling them off me and he takes out like five of them one after the other. But they're all over him too and there was just too many coz pretty soon he's screaming and they're all pouncing on him. There was this really intense light coming out of his eyes and mouth but at this point I was on my feet so I just closed my eyes, grabbed him by the coat, and jumped back through the hole."

There was a brief silence while Dean and Tasha absorbed Sam's wild tale.

"I don't remember any of that," came a deep, tired-sounding voice from behind them.

"Dude, you're awake," Dean announced unnecessarily, getting to his feet and heading over towards the angel, who was still on the couch but had managed to pull himself to the sitting position. "Are you alright? How do you feel?"

Cas cocked his head sideways and closed his eyes, curling his lip in apparent discomfort as he moved his hand around his own belly and up to his head. "I don't know," he said finally. "Everything feels weird."

Dean curbed his notion to smile. "Weird?"

Cas rose to his feet, shifting his weight uncomfortably from leg to leg. "Yes, weird. I feel like..."

"Like...?" Dean gestured with his hand for his friend to continue.

"Like I am full," Cas elaborated.

Tasha giggled and covered her mouth apologetically.

Dean did better and once again managed to stifle a laugh at the new human's expense. "Cas, do you need to pee?" he asked bluntly.

He got a confused expression in return. "I'm not entirely sure."

Tasha giggled again. "After a year of holding it in, that's gotta be it." She pointed to Bobby's hallway. "Bathroom's right there."

Cas gave them an undecipherable look. "Bathroom? Yes, right. Um..." He looked imploringly at Dean, who raised his hands and took a step backwards.

"Hell no! Sorry but you can figure it out for yourself, man. I'm _not_   helping you with that."

"Verbal instructions would have sufficed," Cas mumbled, his cheeks turning slightly pink as he turned and shuffled towards the hall.

Sam shook his head and snorted. "Dude, just point and shoot."

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**


	6. Taken

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

Dean spent the next day dividing his time between watching Sam and watching Cas and trying not to be too obvious about either.

Being human seemed to be having a rather adverse effect on Cas's disposition because the ex-angel hadn't stopped grumbling about... well, everything. He did enjoy eating but figured out too late that he should have stopped after the third cheeseburger and spent the afternoon sitting on the couch groaning and holding his stomach. Having to walk everywhere rather than 'winging' around seemed to be the top on a long list of complaints that included hiccups and Jersey Shore marathons.

Sam, on the other hand, seemed fine after his foray into Purgatory. A little too fine in Dean's opinion. Sam tended to share ... overshare actually ... especially when something so crazy had gone down but he was just shrugging this off like it was nothing. Even though he had been improving quickly, as of yesterday he had still been a little twitchy, a result of his withdrawal from the demon blood. But today he was calm and steady, no sign of jitters or anxiety and he definitely had no trouble concentrating as he spent the day researching Purgatory in Bobby's library. Most disconcerting was the fact that there was no trace of the expected 'deeply concerned' look Sam had practically trademarked until Cas had come along and bested it. The lack of drama was especially surprising to Dean considering the information Sam was digging up.

Between a couple of obscure articles in Bobby's library and the little Cas knew about it, they determined Purgatory was the monster's equivalent of Hell. Human souls not deserving of heaven, or sold to a crossroads demon of course, went to Hell where as the souls of monsters went directly to Purgatory. There were creatures and monsters in there that no hunter had ever seen, worse than anything they could even imagine if Cas were to be believed. But there had never been a gate opened between this realm and Purgatory as far as he was aware and he didn't know much more about it. Not even the angels knew how to gain access.

While on stake-out, Bobby had been fielding calls from other hunters regarding Daevas all night. With the rash of recent sightings in the states surrounding Nebraska, several hunters had their sights on pairs of Daevas as of yesterday and most of them had since reported their prey simply disappearing. Cas had informed them the Daevas were most likely dead or powerless now since their Alpha had been killed. He couldn't be sure this was what would happen as very few Alphas had been killed over the millennia since they didn't usually 'walk the earth' and generally couldn't be found, but he thought it was the most likely scenario.

Samuel finally arrived back at his compound with Christian, putting an end to Dean's worries that he had been hurt or killed by Crowley's demons when they had stolen the box with the Daeva Alpha from him. Bobby and Jo got made by the shrewd Campbell patriarch within a couple of hours of his return and had to give up their surveillance of the place. They arrived back at Singer Salvage that night, not long before Ellen arrived back from her friend's place in Iowa.

Ellen's first concern was naturally Sam and she questioned his lack of withdrawal symptoms.

"I dunno," he shrugged. "It's weird coz when I woke up after I got back from there they were just ... gone. I can't explain it but I swear, I'm fine. No cravings. No shakes."

Bobby eyed him suspiciously and handed him a holy-water-laced beer. "Just makin' sure nothin' hitched a ride back with you," he said in way of explanation.

Dean winced at his own lack of precaution in not having done the 'monster-check' routine himself. Bobby handed a second beer to Cas, who was sitting on the couch still wearing his suit and trench coat and looking decidedly tired. "Now you two best make a little slice with a silver knife so we can settle it and then you," he pointed to Cas, "need to get some shut-eye."

Dean grinned. "He'll need instructions on how to do that."

"So are we thinking yer angel grace got stranded in Purgatory?" Bobby asked, ignoring the younger hunter's tease.

Cas nodded glumly, not looking up as he drew the silver blade across his arm just like Sam was doing.

"That's the general consensus," Dean answered for him.

"Is your grace aware of itself?" Tasha asked quietly from where she sat next to the ex-angel. The bewildered new human had seemed overwhelmed today and had been sticking fairly close to either Tasha or Dean. Feeling sorry for him and realizing he was comfortable with her even if she didn't feel the same way, she had refrained from her usual habit of giving him a wide berth. She couldn't forget the way he had jumped right into that hole after Sam. "I mean like the way Dean's soul was in Hell? Does it know what's happening to it?"

Cas shook his head, staring with a look of deep concentration at the fresh cut on his arm. "No. It is different," he said. "As an angel, I was aware of its presence but it isn't self-aware and it can't be broken like a soul can."

Dean flinched and cast his eyes downward for a brief second at the mention of breaking in Hell, a subconscious reaction. He still carried the weight of his actions under Alistair's tutelage.

"But it will get damaged," Cas continued. "The longer it is there, the worse..."

"We'll get it back," Dean cut him off. "We'll find a way and we'll get it back, Cas."

"Uh, I hate to point out the obvious, Dean," Sam spoke up. "But that might not be possible. I mean, opening another gate into Purgatory isn't exactly a smart move. Don't get me wrong, it sucks for Cas that he's got a pulse and an expiry date now, but we gotta look at the bigger picture."

Dean frowned at his brother. "Dude. We're not just gonna give up on him."

"I'm not saying that," Sam argued. "I'm just saying we need to focus on killing Alphas."

"Killing Alphas?" at least three voices repeated his last statement.

"Are you insane?" Jo added.

"That would be extremely dangerous and most definitely futile," Cas said.

Sam rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. "Guys, hundreds of hunters spend their whole lives killing random monsters here and there and nine times out of ten, end up getting killed by one. We take out an Alpha and we potentially take out the entire race in one shot, or at least weaken it. Just think about it!"

"I'm thinking about how nuts it is," Bobby groused.

"We're hunters, aren't we?" Sam pressed. "We kill monsters. Killing Alphas is the most effective way of doing that."

"Cas you alright?" Tasha asked suddenly and they all turned to see him frowning down at the cut in his arm, which he still had held out in front of him.

He sighed in obvious frustration. "How long until this wound stops bleeding?"

Ellen stepped forward with a sympathetic look and grabbed a bandage from the nearby table. "You gotta put pressure on it, honey. It doesn't heal itself instantly."

She got a glum look in response. "It used to."

Nobody called the man out on his self-pity. It was hard to imagine what it must be like to go from jetting around as a supreme being to being confined in a weak and limited bag of bones of which you had yet to master the basic functions. Surely Cas was entitled to a day of wallowing.

Ellen cleaned and wrapped the cut. By the time she finished and stepped back, Cas had slumped back into the couch, his head tipped back, his eyes closed, and his breathing deep and even.

"Guess he didn't need those instructions after all," Dean said, giving his sleeping friend a fond look as Ellen spread a blanket over him.

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

There was no question for Dean what his next move was going to be. Upon hearing that Samuel had returned to the Campbell compound alive and well, it took all his restraint to agree to wait until the next morning before heading out to the Montana to confront his grandfather. Capturing monsters? Skulking around armed compounds? Sitting on cures that could be saving countless people? Handing frigging Alphas over to demons? He wanted a damn explanation.

Sam's trip to Purgatory hadn't reopened his leg wounds from the Daeva so he was getting around pretty well by now and made it clear he had no intention of missing out on that confrontation. By six in the morning, the two were on the road, chewing up the tarmac in the Impala as fast as Dean dared. They were arguing with the guard at the compound entrance by early afternoon and standing in the cafeteria ten minutes later.

Samuel came in a few minutes later flanked by both Mark and Christian and not looking at all pleased to see his grandsons. "Dean, Sam," he nodded to them in turn. "What can I do for you?"

"Uh, let's see," Dean fired back, his voice laden with sarcasm. "You could try explaining why you handed a frigging Daeva Alpha over to the most dangerous demon on the planet."

If Samuel was surprised at how much the Winchesters knew, he didn't show it. Instead he narrowed his eyes at them. "You accusing me of something, son?"

"Damn right I'm..."

"What Dean's trying to ask," Sam cut in firing a frustrated glance at his brother in an attempt to shut him up, "is what happened to the Alpha? One minute you guys had it trapped in a box in your van and the next, Crowley's opening a gate to Purgatory with it."

All three men's eyes shot open. If they had known about the gate, they were faking it well.

"Purgatory?" they all exclaimed in unison.

"Okay, hang on a second," Samuel raised his hand. "It's true, we did have an Alpha. I'm not even going to ask how you knew that because I have a feeling that would lead into a whole different discussion about trusting family, but Christian and I were taking it somewhere safe when..."

" _Dead_   is the only safe place for a damn Davea," Dean interjected, his hand instinctively rubbing over the now-scabbed cuts on his chest.

His grandfather shot him a reproachful look and kept right on talking. "We got ambushed by a small army of demons and unfortunately, they took the Daeva. We had no way of knowing what they were going to do with it. This Purgatory thing is news to me."

"Why'd they leave you alive?" Dean demanded, still suspicious. "Demons would have just killed you."

"And start a war?" Christian cut in. "In case you hadn't noticed, there's a lot of us here." He waved his hand around to indicate the entire compound. "We're well armed and well-trained, not some rag-tag group of..." He let his sentence trail off leaving no doubt he was referring to the Winchesters and their current hunting companions. "The demons don't want to piss us off any more than they have to."

Dean was about to argue some more but Sam got his question out first. "Why are you capturing creatures instead of killing them?"

Samuel shook his head and avoided the question. "Like I said before, I don't want you boys involved. You've done your part saving us all from Lucifer. Just leave the reins to me from now on, like your mother would have wanted."

"That doesn't really answer my question." Sam didn't back down, though there was no animosity in his voice. "Why didn't you kill the Davea?"

"You got any idea how to do that, son?" Samuel challenged. "Coz it takes some powerful juice to just trap that thing. Nothing that I know of can kill it."

"Crowley found a way," Dean pointed out. "Thing was dead when we got to his place."

"Look, I don't know this Crowley demon, but we'll be taking more precautions next time so you two don't have to worry. Besides, what in the Hell were you doing at his place? Are you hunting him?"

"He's got something we want," Dean admitted, not mentioning the Colt specifically.

"You're going after Alphas to take down monsters whole races at a time, aren't you?" Sam blurted.

He got no confirmation from any of the three Campbells in the room.

"Why don't we join you?" he urged. "I mean, if we put all our heads and our resources together, we can do a lot of good. We can take them down by the thousands."

"Not gonna happen, son," Samuel said sternly.

Dean snorted and turned to his brother. "Come on, Sam," he beckoned, starting for the door. "I know when I'm not wanted."

"No, Dean, wait," Sam clearly wasn't ready to give up and he turned back to the Campbells. "We bring a lot to the table," he told them.

"Like what? Your little rebel angel?" Christian sneered. "He ain't the only Ace in the deck. Besides, from what I hear, he's just some low-level grunt."

"Yeah? Well at least he's on the right side," Dean spat defensively, not divulging that Cas was no longer even an angel. "Which is more than I can say for certain about any of you right now."

Samuel raised a hand to stop Christian from further escalating the smack-talk. "This conversation's over," he said, leaving no room for argument. "Listen boys, once this is over and I've done what I need to do, I'll come see you and maybe we can have a beer and do the whole family thing. But for now, I need you to leave. I need you to stop asking questions and stop spying on me and I need you to stay away from Alphas."

"No promises," Sam said flatly, folding his arms over his chest.

"So that's it?" Dean asked incredulously. "You're just kicking us out again?"

"For now."

"Aren't you curious about what happened to Mom?" the elder Winchester stalled. "You say you're keeping us out of the loop for her sake but you haven't asked a single question about her. She lived for a decade after you died. Don't you want to know about her last ten years? Don't you want to get to know her sons?"

Samuel's hard stare actually softened and he sighed. "Your mom was my Mary long before either of you were born. You lived your whole lives without her and you know what it's like to not have her around but for me..." He rubbed his hand down over his face much the way Dean did when stressed. "She was my _life_   and when I got brought back here only to find out she was gone..." He stopped talking and the brothers could see him pulling himself together as his hardened expression spread across his face once more.

"Like I said," he finished tersely. "I'm not getting you two involved so please leave." He pointed to the door they had come in and Christian moved forward to escort them back to their car.

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

Back on the road Sam turned to Dean with a curious look. "Think it's because of the demon blood?" he asked.

"Huh? What?" Dean tried to catch up.

"Think Samuel knows about me drinking demon blood and that's why he won't trust us to join them?"

His elder brother frowned. "I don't know, or care really, but what's with you and wanting to join them so badly?"

Sam shrugged. "They have a pretty sweet set-up, Dean," he answered. "We're hunters. Hunting's what we do. Imagine how much better we could do it with all their equipment and intel?" He arched an eyebrow when Dean got on the Highway 94 ramp instead of the 90. "Uhhh, wrong way."

"Nope. Right way. We're going to that other facility of theirs and we're gonna break in and find out what they're up to."

"They already basically admitted they're after Alphas."

"No there's more to it than that. They're still hiding something."

"You don't trust our own grandfather?"

Dean eyed Sam incredulously. "And you do? Did you leave your instincts in freaking Purgatory, Sam? He's all kinds of shady. Him and his Merry Band of Morons."

Sam snickered. "You mean Mark, specifically."

Dean threw him a glare that would have struck him dead if looks could kill.

"See," Sam gloated, letting out a full-on laugh. "Nothing wrong with my instincts."

"I got no problem with Mark," Dean denied, only partly lying. "Now Christian, on the other hand; him I'd like to punch in the face."

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

It was two A.M. by the time they climbed the fence at the Bismarck compound. It was still guarded but not as heavily as the last time they were here. They made it all the way to the building and a few steps inside a back door before a loud alarm went off and two men showed up pointing rifles at them

They recognized the older man as Doc, the long-haired medic from the Daeva rescue incident.

"Shit," Doc cursed as he flicked on a main light without ever taking his gun off them. "Samuel was right. You two pains in the ass just won't give up."

"What do we do with them?" the second guy asked, fingering his trigger nervously.

Doc was already on the phone, explaining to who the brothers presumed was Samuel on the other end of the line that he had the Winchester brothers with their hands in the air. "What am I supposed to do with them?" he asked, looking skeptical. He listened for a second to the man on the other end before snapping his phone shut.

"Alright," he said, ushering them out the door they had attempted to come in. "You two are free to go but hear me when I say this. You come back here, we will shoot you. It'd be fair and lawful because you'd be trespassing so don't think I'll hesitate."

He led his prisoners to the main gate and hustled them out, locking it back up behind them. The humiliated brothers watched as the guard patrol was stepped up and by the time they made it back to the Impala, they realized their chances of breaking in successfully were now zero.

"Fuck it," Dean groused. "Let's head home."

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

Doc Campbell watched the Impala pull out of the bushes and roar away down the road before calling Samuel back to assure him his grandsons wouldn't be getting in here any time soon, even if they were stubborn or stupid enough to try again.

"Why don't you just bring them in?" he asked after a moment of listening. "You keep saying they can't get involved but they _are_ hunters and they've got one heck of a reputation. Not to mention they're family."

Apparently his questioning orders wasn't well-received because he pulled the phone away from his ear to lessen the volume of the response. "Alright, alright," he rolled his eyes. "I get it. You say Christian's gonna take care of it, then fine, I'll mind my own business. None of our guests here are doing any talking anyway so I'm on my way back there tonight. I'll see you soon."

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

Tasha steered Bobby's old Chevelle off the highway and through the rusty iron gateway of Singer Auto Salvage, cursing at the piece-of-crap radio that turned itself off when she hit one of the many potholes in his gravel driveway. She had agreed to let Bobby and the Harvelle women take her car to go check out some weird occurrences in nearby Huron and was now missing the well-tuned comfort of her own vehicle. She had wanted to go with the Winchesters but Dean had made no secret that he didn't want her anywhere near his newfound family. Although only partially convinced it was because of shady Samuel and not some latent jealousy over the whole Mark thing, she agreed to stay and keep an eye on Cas. She never had been able to say no to the elder Winchester when he poured on the charm anyway so here she was on babysitting duty.

Thankfully the 'baby' was of legal drinking age – give or take a few millennia. After spending the day teaching him everything from how to clean his teeth to target practice with the twelve-gauge, she decided he was ready to discover the virtues of alcohol. Not surprisingly, considering the number of drinkers now staying in the house, Bobby was out of the good stuff so she left Cas to figure out Classic Pac-Man and Donkey Kong while she headed to the all night Pump-N-Pak on the edge of town to stock up.

She made her way down Bobby's long driveway, pulling into the covered area adjacent to the house that was usually reserved for the Impala and killing the noisy engine. She grabbed the beer and the blended whisky and was just heading into the house when she heard a noise from the yard and a flash of movement caught her eye.

"Cas?" she called apprehensively, trying to see out into the darkness of the night. Her hand instinctively moved to the small of her back to check her knife was still there, even though there was never any doubt since it was _always_   there. Growing up with a constant vampire threat, she had been taught to always carry a knife dipped in dead man's blood, a weapon that would do more damage to a vamp than a gun. Since Dean had killed Diego, she had stopped dipping the knife in blood but couldn't drop the habit of tucking it in her pants every morning. After almost twenty years of carrying it, she felt naked without it. It was also still her best defense because her skill with a blade would ' _rival Wolverine'_ , as Dean most often put it.

She couldn't see anybody but the light from the house window behind her was darkening the yard outside and hindering her vision. "Cas?" she repeated more loudly. There was no reply but she couldn't shake the feeling she had seen something; that there was somebody out there. It wouldn't really surprise her if the sad guy still wearing his trench coat wasn't wandering around out there staring up at the stars and trying to strike up a conversation with God, but surely he would answer her if it was him.

She put the bag of booze down and stepped out into the darkness, the outline of the wrecked cars becoming clearer as she did so. Her body was tense as her eyes searched the yard for whatever had the hairs on the back of her neck standing up. "Hello?"

Another noise. This time she pinpointed it. It was a scuffling sound and it had come from behind a nearby derelict station wagon. She made her way around, circling wide to get a view of what her hunter's instincts were telling her was definitely not a racoon.

Her instincts were right. She could decipher the outline of a man crouched in the shadows behind the wheel of the station wagon. She cursed, wishing she wasn't alone and hoping he was.

"Gig's up Buddy," she challenged him. "I know you're there; show yourself."

She heard the man let out an exasperated groan before standing up and turning to face her. She controlled her reaction when she recognized his face from the Davea incident a couple of days ago.

"Christian," she narrowed her eyes at him, not relaxing in the slightest. "Christian Campbell. What the fuck are you doing here? Why are you skulking around and spying on me?"

Christian shrugged. "Honestly, I thought you were Bobby Singer," he explained unapologetically. He jerked his chin towards the garage. "You were driving his piece of shit."

"Well, Bobby's not home," she informed him. He just stood there with a smug expression that was making her edgy. "What do you want with him anyway?" she pressed, never one to back down from a confrontation.

"Had a question for him. Word is he knows his shit," he said, taking a few steps towards her. Tasha didn't know this guy since the only family of Mark's she had met six years ago was Gwen, but her impression so far had been less than favorable. He had been snide and derogatory at the Davea house and now he'd stepped it up to creepy and threatening.

"You expect me to believe you stopped by to ask him a hunting question at three-thirty in the morning?"

He grinned at her and shrugged his shoulders as he kept approaching. "Not really," he laughed, lunging the last step at her and swinging his fist at her face. She dodged and moved swiftly sideways, delivering a jab of her own that did hit its mark and landed with a smack on the side of Christian's face.

The blow sent him staggering backwards but just a single step and he recovered quickly, charging forward again with his usual mocking face now curled up into a nasty snarl. He was almost at her when she heard the faintest of sounds behind her. She barely registered the sharp pain at the base of her neck and had a vague notion of falling before blackness swallowed her.

Christian stopped in his tracks, his fist still clenched tightly as he stared down at the unconscious girl lying on the dirt. He looked up at Mark, who was still holding his Glock with the grip forward and standing a step behind her, his face still mostly in shadow.

"You didn't have to interfere," Christian hissed defensively. "I had her."

Mark just snorted and nudged Tasha's hand with his toe, revealing the knife in its grasp. "Trust me," he said quietly. "I just saved your ass."

Christian acknowledged his surprise and the rescue with a low whistle and rubbed his jaw where she had hit him. His other hand moved to rest on his hip and he paused for a second looking unsure before he turned back to his distant cousin. "So what do we do now?"

Mark shrugged. "Improvise."

"What does that mean?"

"Cuff her and throw her in the van."

A short burst of laughter escaped the darker-haired Campbell and he grinned in delight. "Dude, that's just cold."

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**


	7. Behind Enemy Lines

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

Dean shook Cas's shoulder roughly, snapping him out of his deep slumber. He had fallen asleep in his clothes again on the couch, this time apparently while playing Donkey Kong on the old Atari video game console Bobby had brought home for Sam and Dean one summer when they were staying with him as kids. The joystick was still in his hand and the words _"Game Over"_   were still bouncing up and down on the TV screen.

"Cas!" Dean called loudly. "Yo, Cas! Wake up!"

Cas started and sat up quickly, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "What time is it?" he grumbled, squinting at the bright sunlight coming in Bobby's den window.

"Seven-thirty," Dean informed him. "We just got back in. Where's Tash?"

Cas frowned up at him. "In her room, I would imagine."

"She's not there," Dean informed him impatiently. "She's not anywhere."

"Have you tried your childhood abode, err... clubhouse, at the edge of the yard?"

"Yes." Dean was losing patience and his worry was showing in the shortness of his answers. "She's not anywhere here and she's not answering her phone. Bobby's car's here and he's got hers. When was the last time you saw her?"

Cas scrunched up his face in thought. "It was after three o'clock," he remembered. "She went to the store to get some liquor. I must have fallen asleep before she returned because that's the last thing I remember."

"Fuck," Dean swore, clenching his fist. "I don't like this."

"She's a capable adult. You're jumping to conclusions," Sam dismissed. "She probably just went for a walk. You know she likes to be alone."

Dean shot his brother a sharp glare and shook his head. "She'd answer her phone," he said simply and strode towards the back door. Cas stood up and rolled his shoulders in a quick stretch before following him outside to the side garage.

Dean's hunter instincts kicked in as he looked around the garage in full investigative mode. Bobby's car was parked carefully so it seemed Tasha had made it back from her liquor run. He spotted the Pump-N-Pak bag on the dirt floor and rushed over to check its contents, letting out a growl of dismay when he saw the untouched whiskey and beer. "She never made it inside," he said aloud.

He heard a concerned gasp from Cas behind him but his attention was focused on the surrounding area. He stepped outside and his eyes scanned the gravel yard, freezing with alarm when they fell on a small knife on the ground. He ran to pick it up.

"Is it hers?" he heard Cas's voice ask, deep and raspy with shared worry.

"Yeah," he breathed, clenching his jaw as anger started to boil inside him. "There's blood on it."

He swallowed and pulled out his phone, trying her number one more time. The chorus of ' _I was Made for Loving You_ ' by KISS rose up from somewhere among the wrecked cars twenty yards away and Dean strode over to find her phone face down in the dirt. He stared at it in his hand, closing his eyes for an instant with the realization that his brief taste of peace was over.

"Look, drag marks!" Sam exclaimed suddenly from the edge of the garage. Dean hadn't even seen his brother come outside and he looked up to see Sam squatting down examining the ground. He immediately made his way over to him.

"See?" Sam pointed, his finger pointing along the long, straight grooves in the dirt. "Someone was definitely dragged along here." He stood up and walked calmly along the tracks, his demeanor no different than if this was a crime scene of a regular hunt.

Dean noticed his brother's lack of emotion but it barely registered as his mind was already spinning with the possibilities of what this could mean for Tasha. Fuck, he'd just started a life with her; he couldn't lose her now. She had to be okay. But this made no sense; who would take her? With Diego dead, she really didn't have any enemies.

His guilt-prone mind was just coming to the conclusion that this must be the work of one of his own enemies, of which there was a long, long, _long_   line, when Sam let out a cry of triumph and dropped back to the ground to pick something up.

"Vampire teeth!" the young Winchester exclaimed, twirling a small object in his fingers. "And more blood on the ground."

Dean's heart gripped in fear again, doing another one-eighty. Vampires! Okay, Tasha did have some enemies. She had a long history with vampires and had taken out more than a few in her hunting years, her father even more before that. Once a vampire has a human's scent, they never forget it and they have a long memory and a strong lust for revenge. "Could a pack of vampires have taken her?" he rasped, not really wanting an answer.

Sam shrugged and stood up straight. "At least she put up a good fight," he pointed out, holding up a handful of the bloody teeth. "This had to hurt."

"Diego is dead," Cas interrupted, his face pale and bewildered. "Why would other vampires go after Tasha?"

"Vengeance, most likely," Sam answered the very thought Dean had been thinking. "They tend to hold a grudge and she's taken out quite a few of them."

"But why would they _take_   her?" Cas pressed, not needing to finish the sentence with ' _as opposed to just kill her'_.

"Probably to make her suffer first," Sam frowned absently, still studying the tracks in the dirt.

As much as Sam's last comment turned Dean's stomach, something wasn't sitting right about this. Why now? And how would vampires have found her? And what suicidal pack of vampires would sneak onto the property of _Bobby Freaking Singer_ ,  a known hunter with several other hunters staying with him? And all this happens right after they interrupt Crowley and his plans for Purgatory, whatever they may be? That would be a big coincidence and Dean didn't believe in coincidences.

But the evidence was admittedly pointing towards vampires. He swallowed and took a deep breath, trying not to completely freak out here. He needed to keep his cool if he was going to find her before ... no he wasn't going to finish that sentence. He was just going to find her. He pulled out his phone and dialled Bobby, his words short and tense. "Where are you?... Good, I need you home, Bobby... We need to track some vampires and quick... Coz they took Tash."

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

Christian and Mark were on the highway when Tasha woke up. Christian was just commending Mark on the shrewd move to drop a bunch of vamp teeth that they had found in the back of the van from a previous interrogation to send the Winchesters on a wild goose chase when they heard her scuffling around in the back, presumably trying to remember what happened and figure out where she was. There was a series of loud bangs that were obviously her kicking at the back door and Christian laughed. "Your girlfriend's awake," he grinned over at Mark in the passenger seat.

Mark didn't reply and just went back to looking out his window.

Suddenly there was a loud crack right behind them, causing both men to jump. The small window between the front cab and the back shook with the impact of what was obviously a pair of boots slamming into it. The banging repeated itself a few more times.

Christian hooted excitedly. "Woo! We got a wild one!" he cackled, clearly finding the girl's efforts to escape quite amusing. "There's no way you can smash your way outta there, sweetheart!" he called back to their prisoner. "It's made to hold vamps and rawheads so a tiny bit like you ain't gonna bust out!"

He was answered with another series of thuds on the small painted-over window, which only seemed to amuse him further. "Shit, Mark, sounds like your girlfriend's pissed!"

"She's not my girlfriend, you ass," Mark rolled his eyes at his companion. "She never was."

The thuds stopped. "Mark?" came Tasha's voice from the back. "Mark? Is that you? What the fuck's going on? Why are you doing this?"

Mark didn't answer but just sighed loudly and sank lower in his seat, ignoring her completely. Her questions soon turned to angry shouts and eventually to threats laced with streams of cusswords that would make Howard Stern blush. Mark continued to ignore the ruckus with a somber look on his face and Christian laughed out loud the remainder of the trip.

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

Bobby returned with the Harvelles a couple of hours later and was immediately calling every contact he knew. Sam and Dean had already checked to see if there were any crime sprees, missing people, or drunk-and-disorderlies that might indicate a pack of vampires in the surrounding areas and had found nothing. Ellen pulled out her own hunter-rolodex and was calling people as quickly as Bobby was, leading her daughter to make an amused comment about what a team the older pair made. Being the least-known face of them all in Sioux Falls, Jo was sent to the hospital blood bank to see if there had been any missing supplies. It was a long shot that proved to be useless but right now they had nothing else to go on.

Cas paced back and forth, alone in the living room with Dean, his brows knitted in genuine concern and worry and feeling completely useless. Dean slammed the phone down and cursed the FBI at great length and Cas could see his best friend's composure fraying as he began to lose hope they would find a lead in time. The hunter got up and strode over to the window, staring out as if he expected Tasha to come strolling down the driveway any second now.

"Dean, I am sorry," Cas said, finally getting out the apology that had been eating at him for three hours now.

"What?" Dean turned to him with a look of distracted confusion. "Sorry for what, Cas? None of this is your fault."

"But it is," Cas corrected him. "I was here when she was taken. I was right there," he pointed to the couch, " _sleeping_." The last word was said with obvious disdain, as if poisoned with equal amounts of shame and unworthiness.

"Cas, people sleep."

"I should have protected her. If I was an angel, this never would have happened."

"Well you're not an angel anymore, Cas. You're human. And humans sleep. This isn't your fault." Dean gazed out the window again. "We'll find her," he added confidently. "We just need a lead. Hopefully one of Bobby or Ellen's contacts will come up with something."

Cas stood next to his friend for a long, silent moment before Dean suddenly gave a sharp intake of breath and turned to look at him. "Wait, screw Bobby and Ellen's contacts! Yours are way better! Don't you have an angel you can call on?"

Cas glanced up briefly as Sam entered the room but shook his head. "I'm afraid my brethren turned their backs on me when I betrayed Michael to help you."

"Not all of them," Dean pointed out. "How about Anna? It would be awkward as Hell for me considering ... but I'm sure she'd help. She's even more of an outcast than you."

A wince crossed the blue-eyed man's face. "I'm afraid Anna cannot help," he told them. "When Sam was locked in the panic room for the first time, I turned her over to my superiors in an attempt to prove my loyalty. She will likely never see freedom again."

"Dude, that's low," Sam snickered.

"I also let you out," Cas blurted, figuring he may as well let all of his shameful secrets out at once. "I let you go to join up with Ruby so you could kill Lilith and free Lucifer."

There was a brief silence before Dean spoke up. "Doesn't matter," he said sincerely. "Water under the bridge. We've all made mistakes. What matters now is finding Tash."

Cas nodded solemnly. "I will never forgive myself if something happens to her," he said gravely before tilting his head sharply and pursing his lips. "Wait," he breathed. "There is one other angel that would perhaps do a favor for an old friend." He spun on his heel and walked out of the room in the direction of the basement where Bobby kept his hunting gear and spell supplies. "I will try to summon Balthazar."

Sam watched him go with raised eyebrows before turning to Dean. "So he seems pretty openly worried about your girlfriend," he practically smirked. "Doesn't that make you even a little jealous?"

Dean scoffed. "Of course not. They're just friends. Something he doesn't have that many of. He cares about her is all." He paused and studied his younger brother for a moment. "Speaking of which, you don't seem all that pissed or anxious."

Sam pursed his lips. "Well I am," he insisted. "But losing our cool isn't going to help us find her, is it?"

Dean rolled a shoulder in only partial agreement. His jaw tightened and he looked out the window once more. "There's no trace of vamps around," he said in a low, terse voice. "I think Samuel has something to do with this."

Sam rolled his eyes. "What would he gain from nabbing Tasha?" he argued. "You're not thinking straight, Dean."

"My gut tells me it's the fucking Campbells."

"There's no logical reason for..."

"Screw logical! I'm going with my gut." Dean snatched his jacket and headed towards the door.

"Where are you going?"

"To pay Gramps another visit. You guys keep on the vampire thing." With that he slammed the door and was tearing out of the driveway less than a minute later heading back to Montana. Dean's first instinct had been to blame the Campbells and the hardened hunter had learned over the years to trust his instincts.

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

To say Samuel Campbell had been displeased at his men returning from Sioux Falls with a foul-mouthed brunette instead of a middle-aged mechanic would have been an understatement. Tasha was gagged and re-cuffed, since she'd managed to get hers off in the back of the van, before being escorted into the compound and led down into the basement where the Campbell patriarch was waiting. She was shocked to find that Mark had been one of the two sent to kidnap Bobby and had apparently had no problem letting her take the older hunter's place as their captive. True, she and Mark hadn't been together long and she wasn't proud of the way she had left things but still, she hadn't realized she had misjudged him that badly, even if she had been young and naive.

He and Christian explained to an irate Samuel what had taken place at Bobby's and Mark assured him that she would carry the same _'sway with the Winchesters that Stepdaddy Singer would have'_. They explained that they had changed up the plan a bit and left a slew of vamp teeth instead of signs pointing to an old enemy of Bobby's. Mark insisted that the false lead would be entirely believable because of Tasha's long history with vamps and the brothers would be chasing non-existent vampires for the foreseeable future.

She was shoved into an empty, gated weapons cage in the middle of the basement and Samuel tasked her two captors to keep guard before storming up the stairs. Mark in particular looked unhappy with the assignment, especially when Christian slapped the blond man's shoulder and told him to take first shift.

Tasha waited until the darker-haired man had left and she and Mark were alone before removing her gag and trying to talk to him. He had always been a quiet man, that much she remembered, but he had been gentle also and his feelings for her had seemed sincere, something she was hoping to use to her advantage now.

He ignored her for the first ten minutes, just sitting himself on a bench at the far side of the room and leaning back with his eyes closed, not reacting in the slightest to her calling his name and asking a shitload of questions. He finally must have realized she wasn't about to give up for he opened his eyes and sat forward with a groan.

"At least take off these cuffs," she pleaded sweetly, having forcibly removed the anger from her voice after the first couple of minutes.

"Get them off yourself," he answered, his voice calm and even as always. "You managed it in the van."

"You took my paperclip when you put them back on," she reminded him. It had, in fact, been Mark who had taught her to always keep a paperclip tucked in the waistband of her jeans in case of police entanglements, something that had become habit even after they had gone their separate ways. "Come on," she pressed. "It's not like I'm going anywhere and they're hurting my wrists."

He sighed but rose to his feet and approached the cage, digging in his pocket for the key. She stuck her hands out between the bars and tried to catch his gaze while he was unlocking them. He wasn't giving her the satisfaction of eye contact though and when the cuffs dropped away she clasped her fingers around his hands, holding him there until he finally looked up.

"So, it's just us here now," she said quietly, winding her fingers around his. "You can drop the brute act."

He quirked an eyebrow at her.

"It's been a long time," she continued, pressing forward against the bars. "How've you been?"

His blue eyes just stared down at her and she couldn't for the life of her tell what he was thinking from his stony expression.

"You look good," she smiled. "Really good, in fact." She eyed him top to bottom in the obvious way Dean did to her when he was being suggestive. "You still got that Harley?" she asked, biting her bottom lip. "I miss being on the back of that bike."

His face finally broke out into a grin and he tugged his hands free, taking a step back. "You really think I'm gonna fall for that?" he chuckled, his voice holding no malice.

She rolled her eyes and laughed along with him. "I never was very good at the flirting thing," she admitted. "But it was worth a shot."

"You forget, I know you," he pointed out. "Or knew you," he corrected with a vaguely accusing glance.

She sighed. Her best shot at getting out of here was Mark and staying on his good side. Despite the fact that she was furious he had stooped this low to start with and put her in this mess, the guy she had known six years ago wasn't a bad guy. Could he really have changed that much?

"Look, I'm sorry about taking off back then," she sighed, trying to sound sincere as well as remind him of their time together. "I mean, I was nineteen, I woke up hurt and you were still there and ... I guess I got scared. I didn't want to go breaking my number one rule, you know."

Mark nodded, his lip curling into a lopsided smile. "I remember. Never get attached."

Tasha nodded sheepishly. That had always been her rule and she had always managed to stick to it, at least until the day she met Dean Winchester.

"Look, about all this; you don't have to worry," Mark told her. "You're not gonna get hurt, okay? You're just being used as leverage. We'll let you go as soon as it's over."

Tasha's eyes shot open at the revelation, wild and scared. "Leverage! Against who? Against Dean?"

Mark just nodded.

"Why would you want leverage over Dean?" she demanded. "Is he in danger? Just leave him out of this! What's going on, Mark? Why are you guys capturing monsters and what does it have to do with Dean?"

He took another step back and kept quiet, clearly realizing he had already divulged too much and reverting to his usual silent self. She continued to rant and hound him with questions about what they were up to and what Dean's involvement was. Mark finally let out a short chuckle and shook his head.

"Seems you broke your number one rule after all," he said softly. "You really care about him, huh?"

"Yeah, Mark, I do," Tasha told him honestly. "I love him."

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

**_Six Years Ago..._ **

Tasha woke up slowly to find an arm draped over her and warm flesh pressed up against her naked back. Surprisingly, she liked the unfamiliar feeling and smiled to herself, closing her eyes again and taking a deep breath to soak in the moment. It had only been two and a half weeks, but she found herself enjoying the nightly company of the blond hunter she had met while ridding a house of a poltergeist. She was liking the break from her usual routine of sleeping alone every night, of lying about who she was and sneaking out early in the morning on the rare occasions when she sought out physical comfort in a bar.

A soft moan rose from behind her and the arm around her tightened, drawing her against an unmistakable hardness now pressing into the small of her back.

"Morning," came a soft voice in her ear and a hot, wet tongue tickled the sensitive skin of her neck.

She giggled and pressed back against him, wiggling just enough to draw a hungry groan out of him. Large hands wrapped around her wrists and pushed her onto her back and Mark wasted no time climbing on top of her, pinning her hands to the bed on either side of her head. "You teasing me?" he smiled down at her.

"Teasing would mean I had no intention of following through," she replied, tilting her head up to capture his lips with hers, a move he immediately responded to. As the kiss deepened, he nudged her thighs apart with his knee and one hand glided down her torso until it came to a rest between her legs. He slid his middle finger slowly back and forth and breathed a low, pleased sound into her mouth at how wet she was. A few strokes in and he shifted the angle, pushing the finger inside her and smothering her gasp with his forceful kiss. Her hips reacted instinctively, rising to meet his hand every time it surged forward. Two fingers soon replaced one and he never stopped pumping them in and out as he reached for a condom on the dresser, ripped the package open with his teeth, and rolled it on one-handed. Within seconds, his eager erection soon replaced his dripping fingers and she cried out loud at the sensation when he sank his full length inside her.

His lips curled into a smile against the skin of her cheek. For a quiet man, he seemed to enjoy Tasha's tendency towards volume in the bedroom. Young and still relatively inexperienced, the nineteen-year-old was flattered by his encouraging reaction and didn't hesitate to play to it, releasing loud and lustful moans every time he dipped forward.

He picked up the pace, cupping his hands under her ass and lifting her hips to get a better angle. Her hands slammed onto the bed, fisting in the sheets beneath her and she threw her head back into the pillow as she struggled to breathe. He pushed into her harder with every stroke, hitting that sweet spot she had never known existed before meeting him. His fingertips dug into her flesh, delivering pain in a way that she never imagined could feel so good. She could feel the tell-tale rush of an orgasm approaching, yet another first since she had met twenty-five year old Mark, and the rising pitch of her cries was all he needed to know it was on its way.

"Mmm, that's it, cum for me," he rasped, the strain in his voice giving away how close he was also.

"Oh... Oh... Oh God!..." she panted before bursting, arching her back and quivering at the heights of the pleasure she was feeling. "Unnnnh! Fuuuuck!"

He rammed into her one last time and held himself there for a moment before giving her a few more weak thrusts and falling forward, still buried inside as he lay panting on top of her. Tasha closed her eyes, enjoying the heavy feel of his sweaty body on top of hers but the moment was too soon interrupted by a loud banging on the motel door.

"If you two lovebirds are done waking up the entire neighborhood," came Gwen's sarcastic voice through the door, "we have work to do. There's a Dharga on the loose, remember?"

Mark groaned in Tasha's ear. "I'm gonna kill my cousin one of these days," he whispered, pushing himself up onto the palms of his hands and giving Tasha one last kiss. "You better get in the shower."

The hunt that day didn't go well. The tunnels they were searching were dark and twisty and the three of them were forced to split up. On top of that, the Dharga that was supposed to be sleeping during the day was most certainly not. The six silver bullets Tasha fired into it didn't kill it like they should have and she found herself fending off the enraged creature with just her four inch knife as a weapon. She barely felt its claws scratch deep gashes down her left side because in one smooth move, the agile beast had sunk a piece of wrought iron into her belly with its third hand.

She remembered lying on the floor and clutching her abdomen, her hands soaked with her own blood, and she remembered thinking this was it, glad at least Diego wasn't going to be the one that killed her.  Then there was gunfire and flames and shouting and finally Mark's voice calling her name. She remembered him carrying her out to the car and barking at Gwen to "Just fucking drive!" She remembered him holding her in the back seat murmuring in her ear over and over that she would be alright and she remembered absurdly thinking this that this had to be the most words he had ever said to her at one time.

She awoke in a hospital bed feeling like she had gone six rounds with Tito Ortiz without bothering to block. A nurse was smiling at her and asked her name to check her awareness. She gave her the fake one she had been using at the time and was informed she had been out for over three days. The nurse nodded at an empty chair by the bed and told her it was practically the first time her brother had left the room this whole time.

" _My brother_?" she rasped.

"Yeah, Mark, isn't it? He's just gone down to the cafeteria; he'll be back soon, I'm sure."

She didn't know what to think of that and was still trying to sort it out in her head when she fell back asleep.

Next time she awoke, Mark was sleeping in the chair. She lay quietly for a long time, studying his face and realizing what was happening. Whatever they had wasn't there yet but just maybe it was headed that way. His quietness and their lack of deep, revealing, personal conversations had just given the illusion this wasn't turning into anything serious.

She couldn't help but draw the parallels between them and her parents, her insides twisting with guilt. Jesus, he even looked like her dad, right down to the blond hair and the blue eyes, where as she had the darker features of her mother and the Montoya Spanish heritage. She had seen firsthand what her dad had gone through and everything he had given up or lost to be with her mother and didn't want that for Mark. She would always be on the run from Diego and everyone she got close to would be in danger. She didn't love Mark but she certainly liked him and she wasn't going to be the one to take everything away from him.

Without a single lasting friendship in over five years and through ten foster homes, Tasha was used to walking away and not looking back. This time would be no different.

She sat up slowly and quietly, pulling out the IV with a noiseless whimper. She noticed the two silver rings on the bedside table and gave the sleeping hunter a silent 'thank-you' for clearly taking the effort to get them from her belongings and keep them safe for her. They were the wedding bands her father had made for him and her mom and they were all that she had left of them and the only worldly possession that meant a damn to her. Considering how little she and Mark actually spoke, she was surprised he would have thought to rescue them.

With great difficulty, she made it off the bed and limped down the quiet hall until she found a staff locker room. Ten minutes and three picked locks later, she emerged with oversized men's clothes and just under seven hundred dollars in cash. _Gotta love those doctors' salaries_.

Next stop was the hospital pharmacy for some pain meds and by the time she had hitched a ride to the edge of town and checked herself into a cheap 'ask-no-questions' motel, she was ready to pass out. She spent the next week between the scratchy sheets of a seedy, lime green motel room, healing in familiar, lonely solitude and vowing never to let things get that far again.

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

**_Present..._ **

Dean didn't bother waiting at the gate of the Campbell compound as the armed guard flagged him over and started strolling towards the driver's window. When the gate opened for a truck to leave, he simply gunned the Impala's engine and charged right through. As he passed, he recognized the driver of the truck leaving as Doc, the long-haired medic who had caught him and Sam breaking into the other facility just a few hours ago, but the man sped out onto the road with an angry look on his face and not so much as a sideways glance. Dean skidded to a halt in front of the main building that housed the cafeteria where he had met Samuel on two previous occasions and by the time he was out the car and at the door, there were men with guns shouting at him.

He shoved the door open and strode right in, ignoring them. "I'm looking for Samuel!" he boomed down the hallway, hoping like hell the men wouldn't shoot the boss's grandson but not wanting to risk being stopped before he could get inside. "Samuel Campbell! Get your ass out here!"

He halted when he reached the cafeteria since he didn't actually know what direction to go from there and the men with guns fanned out around him, looking relieved he had finally stopped. He simply glared around at them all. "Get me Samuel. Now!"

An angry Dean Winchester was a force to be reckoned with alright.

"Well I gotta say, you know how to make an entrance," came an amused female voice from the back of the room. He spun to see Gwen dropping her fork and standing up.

"Hi Gwen," Dean said, not even trying to sound friendly. "Where the fuck is Samuel?"

"Right here," Samuel snapped as he entered. "You need to clear the crud out of your ears, son? Coz I distinctly remember telling you to stay the hell away."

Okay, the pretense of manners had apparently been dropped on both sides.

"Where's Tash, you son of a bitch?"

Samuel did an excellent job of feigning surprise. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

"You're telling me you stormed in here like Kojak looking for your damn girlfriend?" Samuel gestured around the room at the six men still pointing rifles at Dean. "Have you lost your mind?"

"What did you do with her and why?" Dean pressed.

"Are you saying Tasha's missing?" Gwen asked, coming closer to him than any of the men in the room had and perching herself on a nearby table with a gloating smirk on her face. "Ever occur to you she just ran off? That's what she does, Dean. Just ask Mark."

Dean ignored her, keeping his attention directed squarely at his grandfather. "She didn't run off. And if you don't have her then Crowley does and you guys are in bed with him, I just know it. Trust me, you don't want to know what I'm going to do with you if she so much as gets a broken nail. If you have her..."

He realized the absurdity of his threat considering how outnumbered and out armed he was right now but instead of backing down he beefed up his warning. "Let's just say it would be a big mistake. You'll not only have crossed me, you'll have seriously pissed off an angel," he bluffed. The fact that the Winchesters had an angel watching their back was well known in hunting circles. The fact that Cas was no longer an angel, was not. "See, I got friends, _Tasha_   has friends, with some serious firepower. If we find out you had anything to do with this," he jabbed his finger at Samuel, "You're as good as dead."

Surprisingly and a little unnervingly, threatening fire and brimstone didn't seem to faze the stoic senior Campbell, nor the other hunters in the room. Dean would have expected at least a couple of flinches or apprehensive glances.

"Are you saying you're going to send your lapdog angel to kill your own grandfather?" Samuel asked icily.

"Oh no," Dean shook his head. "He'll go all smite-happy on your little Scooby gang but you, gramps, you I'll kill myself."

"I think it's time you left, Dean. Seems your daddy forgot to mention the importance of family. I'm your _grandfather_. Your mother was my _child_. Do you really think I would threaten you or hurt you in any way? We're all family here."

"Sam is my family. Bobby and Tash are my family. You … you lost that claim when you popped back topside and didn't bother to call. I don't know you." Dean realized he was getting nowhere and the only thing he was accomplishing was to further instigate this conflict between the Winchesters and the Campbells, cutting any last thread of a chance they had at making peace. "The fact that you're my grandfather is the only reason you're still standing right now," he finished, getting right in the older man's face.

With that he spun on his heel and headed towards the door, shoving roughly past one of the men watching the showdown. He heard Samuel behind him telling his men to ' _let him go'_ and he made it back to the Impala unimpeded.

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

Mark was relieved of guard duty and sent on a supply run, leaving Tasha in the company of Christian and another Campbell named Johnny, who the brunette decided she disliked every bit as much as Christian. She sat on the floor in the middle of the cage, ignoring their rude remarks and vulgar attempts to get a rise out of her. There was some yelling upstairs at one point and the man she recognized as Doc came storming down the small stair case, stopping sharply at the bottom.

"Oh Hell no!" he yelled when his eyes fell on the girl in the cage. "HELL no! I don't want to be any part of this!"

"We're not gonna hurt her, Doc," Christian appeased.

Doc spun on the younger hunter, shaking his head. "This ain't right!" he spat, jabbing his finger at the prisoner and storming back up the stairs, followed closely by Johnny. "I ain't being any part of this!"

Tasha tried to call him back but he kept going and the door was slammed behind him at the top. There was some more muffled yelling and she recognized Samuel's stern voice but then everything grew quiet and her hopes of a rescue by a disgruntled Doc faded away.

Christian shook his head and folded his arms across his chest. "Look at the trouble you're causing, bitch," he spat.

"Fuck you."

"No thanks, I don't take sloppy seconds," he sneered. "Oh no, wait, that would be _thirds_."

The door at the top of the stairs suddenly sprang open again and Johnny came rushing back down. "Winchester's here!" he shouted, snapping both Tasha and Christian into action.

"DEAN!" she screamed, trying to make her voice carry up the stairs. "DEAN! Down here!"

"Get in there and shut her up!" Johnny yelled but Christian was already fumbling with the key in the door lock. They were both inside the cage in seconds. Tasha tried to get around them, screaming for Dean the whole time, but she was cornered and they were on her in a flash. She put up a fierce struggle but by the time she heard Dean's voice bellowing for his grandfather upstairs, she was pinned on the cement floor with Christian's sweaty palm over her mouth and Johnny's knee digging painfully in her back.

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

Half an hour later, Johnny and Christian put the cuffs and the gag back on their pissed off, struggling prisoner and dragged her upstairs, this time taking her out a back door where Samuel was waiting in the van. They threw her in and the two younger Campbells joined her in the back while Samuel drove. It wasn't long before they pulled over and she strained to see out the back door as it opened. As far as she could tell, they were on the shoulder of a lonely stretch of road, nothing around but moonlit fields of wheat and a black Lincoln with tinted windows.

Johnny manhandled her out of the van and kept a tight grip on her arm as a man in a suit got out of the back of the other car and strolled towards them, frowning.

It was Crowley. Fuck. So Samuel _was_   working with him. Two other men, clearly demon lackeys, came to stand on either side of their boss.

"Bloody Hell!" was the King of Hell's greeting as he looked at her with obvious discontent. "What's this? I said nab _Bobby_ , not _Barbie!"_

"It's Dean's girlfriend," Christian defended.

Crowley raised an eyebrow at that. "Dean Winchester? Mr. Hit-it-and-Quit-it? Rumor has it he doesn't do girlfriends."

"Trust me," Samuel said sternly. "She's enough leverage but he already suspects we've got her and he's threatening to bring his angel in. I can handle my grandsons but I'm not equipped for angels." He gave Crowley a hard look. "Unless our silent partner wants to start pulling his weight," he added.

Crowley ignored the sarcastic suggestion and Tasha couldn't help but wonder who they were referring to. "You know," the demon smirked, "You just have to say the word and your whole sodding problem goes away."

"No," Samuel said sharply. "Our deal was that if I keep the Winchesters off your back, you leave them alive."

The demon's face darkened. "Well you weren't keeping them off my back when they showed up at my house the other day, were you? They get in my way and they're fair game."

"It won't happen again, trust me. They'll be too busy looking for this one," Samuel pushed Tasha forward and the two demons flanking Crowley grabbed her by the arms. She immediately started struggling, fear suddenly twisting up her insides. Being held against her will at the Campbell compound was one thing but being Crowley's prisoner? That was a whole different story.

She barely heard the remainder of the conversation as she was screaming into her gag and fighting desperately against the two demons who manhandled her roughly into the trunk of the Lincoln and slammed it shut. Less than a minute later the car was crunching over the gravel and onto the smooth asphalt of the road and she fought to quell her panic as she lay panting in the darkness. She spared a fleeting thought to wonder if Mark was a part of this before her worry drifted back to Dean.

Shit, he must be going crazy.

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**


	8. Out of the Frying Pan

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

It was almost two days before they got their first vampire lead. Dean grudgingly conceded that Samuel had seemed genuinely shocked at being accused of kidnapping and there really wasn't any evidence besides Dean's gut pointing at the resurrected Campbell. His efforts since had therefore been poured into finding vampires anywhere in the vicinity. Bobby and Ellen stayed at the junkyard, manning the phones and hounding every hunter they knew for information. Sam and Jo teamed up to follow a promising lead in Kansas involving blood-drained wildlife, leaving Dean with Cas for company to check out a similar story with livestock in Minnesota.

From the minute Tasha had disappeared, Cas stopped grumbling about the magnitude of upkeep and regular maintenance his human body required, instead doing all he could to help in the search. Dean appreciated the effort even though the new human wasn't actually all that useful. He couldn't deny the intentions and motivation were definitely there, it was just that Cas's research skills were minimal and as an angel, he had never needed to learn much about vampires. He hadn't had any luck summoning Balthazar and the rejection from the only brother he still considered friend was obviously weighing on him. If Dean hadn't been so damn worried about Tasha, he would have felt sorry for his friend enough to make an effort to ease Cas's feelings of guilt and complete uselessness.

The dead goats in Minnesota turned out to be nothing more than a Western Bati, a midsized creature that Dean practically chopped to pieces with his machete in his fury and frustration at discovering it was not a pack of vampires. They drove all night and made it back to Singer Salvage just before dawn, both weary and heavy on their feet. Dean parked the Impala in the side garage and Cas went inside to fill in Bobby and Ellen while he moved around to the back of the car to grab the bloody weapons that needed washed.

He was just closing the trunk when he heard a noise behind him. He spun around, his 9mm already drawn, to see Mark Campbell stepping out of the shadows.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" he demanded, his face darkening with anger at the shady nature of his distant cousin's appearance. "You ever heard of knocking on the front door?"

Mark splayed his hands in a gesture of peace and stopped about ten feet away. "I didn't want to wake the whole house," he said quietly. "I was hoping to catch you alone."

"Well, you got me," Dean snapped impatiently, lowering his gun and tucking it back in his jeans. He was tired, irritable, and didn't have time for the Campbells right now. "What do you want?"

"It's about Tash," the other man said, eyeing the closed door to the house apprehensively.

That got Dean's attention. "What about her? You know where she is?"

Mark shook his head. "Not exactly."

"Do you or don't you?"

He sighed, a shameful look crossing his face. "It wasn't supposed to go down like it did."

Dean lunged forward instantly, wrapping his fists in the guy's jacket and shoving him back against Bobby's Chevelle, getting right in his face. "Go down like what?" he demanded, his voice menacing. "You got two seconds to start talking."

Mark didn't fight back but looked pointedly down at Dean's hands. "Let go," was all he said.

Dean forced his rising fury back inside before releasing the other man roughly and taking a step back. He needed answers before beating him to a pulp. "Talk."

The blond man didn't show any signs of intimidation as he straightened up slowly, staying perched on the edge of the Chevelle's trunk and folding his arms across his chest. "It wasn't even supposed to be her," he continued. "We were supposed to take Singer but..."

"Take?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Samuel wanted to keep you guys distracted so you'd stay outta our way."

"Son of a bitch!" Dean reacted before he could think and his fist slammed into Mark's face. He recoiled quickly, bracing for the retaliation and was surprised when he didn't get it. With great difficulty, he managed to gain control over his clenched fists and withheld his next punch in favor of answers.

Mark pushed himself off the Chevelle slowly and took a step away from the irate hunter, rubbing his jaw. "I guess I deserved that," he said. "But you touch me again and we're gonna have problems."

"We already have problems. You guys have had Tash this whole time?"

Mark shook his head. "No. We did, but after you blew in like Rambo, Samuel moved her."

"Where?"

"Not sure. He's kind of big on the need-to-know thing. Doesn't share much. But I heard Christian and Johnny talking and..." he stalled and for the first time, Dean thought he recognized real guilt in his cousin's blue eyes.

"And..." Dean encouraged impatiently.

"And I think the demon Crowley might have her now."

It was all Dean could do to keep from losing it again. "You saying my grandfather handed her over to Crowley?" he ground out between clenched teeth.

"I'm saying I don't know but ... I think so."

"So you guys are taking your marching orders from a fucking demon?"

Mark leaned back against the Chevelle again. "No," he insisted. "Not from a demon. In fact, we're working with..." he hesitated, giving Dean a hard look. "We're working with an angel. At least, I think..." He definitely looked unsure.

"An angel?" Dean pounced on Mark's obvious doubt. "Is that what Samuel told you? Are you really that stupid? And even if you were teamed up with heaven's finest - news flash! Angels are not our friends. They actually wanted Lucifer topside, or didn't you get the memo?"

"Not all of them. You work with an angel."

"A rogue angel," Dean clarified. "An angel who jumped ship because he didn't agree with his douchebag brothers."

"Neither did ours," Mark argued. "Samuel says he's working alone and he's helping us. Monsters have gone crazy. We have to step up our game and this angel's helping us find Alphas."

"Who is he?" Dean demanded, not believing for a second whichever angel it was didn't have ulterior motives.

Mark shrugged. "Didn't get a name. But he insisted you and your brother need to be kept out of things or your Michael-Lucifer destiny crap will screw it all up and all Hell will break loose. Samuel just wants you to back off."

"I don't give a damn what Samuel wants."

"Well you should. I'm telling you, Dean, it's insane how much your grandfather knows. Him and the angel are our best shot at keeping ahead of whatever's going on with the supes these days. We're doing a lot of good, you know."

"Good?" Dean was incredulous. "Samuel handed an Alpha over to a demon so he could open a gate to frigging Purgatory!" he reminded his cousin angrily.

"I'm not so sure that's what happened. He says him and Christian were ambushed and that was the first we've heard of Purgatory."

"He kidnapped a fellow hunter!" Dean shouted. "Then he handed _her_   over to a demon, too!"

"I don't know if that's what..."

"Yes you do!" Dean got right in the hunter's face again, on the verge of losing what little cool he had left. "You wouldn't even be here if you didn't! Jesus, Mark, you knew her! You know she doesn't deserve this. Don't you care at all about what happens to her?"

At least the guy had the decency to avert his eyes and look ashamed for a second. "Why do you think I'm here?" he said evenly. "I didn't know it would come to this. If I had known, I never would have..."

"You shouldn't have anyway!" Dean snapped. As much as he wanted to draw his gun again and shoot the man right in the face for putting Tasha in danger, he was glad to finally be getting some answers about what the Campbells were up to. "I just need to get her back," he admitted tersely. "You gotta give me _something_."

Mark grimaced.  "I'm on a tight leash right now. Me, Gwen, and Doc aren't being told much since we started asking questions about where Tash is. But I have an address." He reached in his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. "Usually we question what monsters we capture ourselves at Samuel's place in Bismarck, trying to get info on the Alphas, but a couple of weeks back, we were ordered to drop off a high-ranking shifter at this place instead."

Dean snatched the paper eagerly and Mark took a step towards the exit. "I don't know what's there but it might be worth looking into," he said.

"She'd better be here," Dean barked, holding up the paper. "And she'd better be okay."

Mark nodded and turned away but paused at the edge of the garage. "When you get her back," he said hesitantly. "Tell her I'm sorry."

"Go fuck yourself."

The Campbell man rolled his eyes and turned away again, mumbling something that sounded like ' _yeah, real mature'_   but Dean let it go, his mind already on more important things.

At last. They had a lead.

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

The address on the paper from Mark was an old jail in Nebraska that had been closed down in the sixties. Bobby made a few phone calls and by the time they arrived there, had discovered it was owned by the same company name on the deeds for Samuel's compound and the facility in Bismarck. All three had been recent acquisitions so it was clear that although Samuel claimed to be the leader of the Campbell hunting group, he answered to somebody with deeper pockets.

Dean was certain that 'somebody' was Crowley. Angels didn't move among humans creating dummy corporations and buying property to facilitate their dirty deed-doing. That sounded more like demons. Like an organized crime division of demons, of which Crowley was definitely the Don. Mark and some of the Campbells might be too blind, too impressed, or too stupid to realize it, but Samuel was definitely on Crowley's payroll.

He was so sure they were walking into a demon's den that he asked Ellen and Jo to stay behind under the pretense of keeping the vampire option open. Tasha was in this mess already because of her association with Dean but he wanted to keep the Harvelle women off Crowley's radar for as long as he could. He refused to have their blood on his hands.

"Jo's gonna be pissed when she finds out you lied," Sam pointed out.

"Yeah, well, pissed ain't dead. Let's do this."

There were only a couple of guards, one at each end of the L-shaped building. The four men took them out easily with Ruby's knife then split up, Sam and Dean taking the bigger wing to search while Bobby and Cas took the smaller side. It went without saying that finding Tasha was the main priority, but as they went their separate ways, Sam called out a reminder to be sure and keep an eye out for the Colt as well.

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

It felt like days since Crowley's henchmen had thrown her in this cell but with no windows and no watch, Tasha really couldn't be sure. The King of Hell hadn't paid her much attention since the first day, when he had asked a few probing questions about how much Sam and Dean knew. She had been naturally defiant and told him where he could stuff his questions but he hadn't lost his temper or been particularly violent in retribution. He clearly saw her as simply a means to keep the big threats, the Winchesters, in line. It was also apparent that he wasn't about to make the same mistake he had the last time they had met by revealing any of his plans or secrets in some vain need to gloat because this time, he said very little. After only a few half-hearted punches from his henchmen, he dismissed his new prisoner, ordering her to be locked in one of the cells with the rest of their 'guests'.

She was led down a row of prison cells that housed all sorts of creatures ranging from Djiin to vampires to things she had never seen before.  The demons tossed her into an empty cell near the end and locked the barred-door behind her. The place smelled of death and blood and urine and there was a constant echo of screams and howls from what she figured was Crowley's interrogation chamber at the far end of the corridor. She spent the first few hours trying to work the hinge pins loose on the door but with no tools to work with, she knew it was a lost cause. Eventually she gave up and hunkered down, hoping to fly below Crowley's radar until the rescue wagon got here.

She never really had any doubts rescue would come; her faith in the elder Winchester being unshakable by this point. This wasn't the first time Dean had been left to search for her and he had come through last time with even less information to go on. She therefore wasn't all that surprised when she heard gunfire and shouting and she got on her feet, eager to get out of this wretched six-by-six dungeon.

It was Cas who found her first. He strode down the corridor carrying a shotgun and a determined expression on his face, peering in each cell as he passed. She called out to him with a relieved smile and he quickened his step to reach her. She saw he was still wearing that damn trench coat but had a pair of jeans on and a green shirt she recognized as Dean's, only Cas wore it buttoned up. He looked so different.

"Tash!" he exclaimed, stepping up and rattling the bars of the door. "Are you harmed?"

"Just get this damn thing open," she replied, unable to wipe the grin off her face.

He looked down at the lock with a frown. "I'm afraid the guard I just threw into the coal furnace may have had the keys on him."

"Way to go, Cas," she snickered, seeing no need to worry just yet. "You got a lock-pick?"

"Uhh, no."

"Kay, not a prob," she said encouragingly. "See that pile of scrap over there? Go through it and grab a thin, sharp metal object and a wire."

He did so and was soon following her instructions in an attempt to pick the lock in the cell door. After two long tedious minutes, she was losing her patience. She tried to keep calm since he seemed so determined to do it himself but she was sure that had she been able to reach from her side, she could have opened it in twenty seconds tops. Unfortunately there was a sheet of solid metal surrounding the lock and she couldn't reach.

"You gotta get the hook on the end of the wire into the notches on the side," she explained for the fourth time, peering down as best as she could from behind the bars. "And then with the straight piece..."

"I am doing that," he said, his tone exasperated. "It keeps slipping." He stopped for a second, reaching into his pocket to hand her his cell phone. "Sam and Dean are in the other wing," he explained, his attention going back to the lock. "Bobby is close-by. Call him."

She called both, starting with Dean to tell him Cas had found her and she was alright and then Bobby to hurry him to their location so she might actually stand a chance of getting out of this cage 'in this century'.

She regretted her last comment the moment the words were out, even though it was said in jest, for Cas's face sagged and his shoulders slumped. He balled his fist and slammed it against the lock in frustration. "I am sorry," he said sincerely. "I have once again proven to be useless as a human."

"Hey," she protested, feeling bad. "Don't be so hard on yourself. Lock-picking's hard. Besides, you found me, didn't you?"

"Sheer luck," he admitted sheepishly. "Bobby ordered me to go this way."

"Well, you took out the demon guard, didn't you? Tossed him in the furnace."

"Yes," Cas rolled his eyes, a hint of a smile forming. " _With_   the keys."

"Rookie mistake," she grinned, glad to see him relax.

"We'll make a hunter outta you yet, son," came Bobby's drawl from the end of the corridor. "Don't you worry." He stepped up to the front of Tasha's cell. "Well ain't you a sight for sore eyes," he chuckled, pulling a lock-pick from his pocket and opening the door in less than ten seconds. He ushered her down the hallway in front of him. "Maybe now that man of yours will let us get some sleep."

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

As Sam and Dean wandered through the large main wing of the dirty, dilapidated facility, Sam knew he should be worried about Tasha but when they walked down a hallway lined with prison cells full of monsters, he couldn't help but think Crowley was on the right path. Not with this Purgatory thing – he hadn't a clue what _that_   was about – but interrogating monsters would surely end up in finding an Alpha or two. Ever since he had discovered the existence of Alphas and the possibility that taking one out could wipe out its entire race, finding and killing an Alpha had become almost an obsession. As a hunter, it was like a calling, a higher purpose even. It certainly trumped finding Tasha, who was just one person, a single hunter, and would surely be willing to sacrifice herself to take out a thousand monsters anyway.

He knew he had cared about the missing girl but couldn't seem to pinpoint that same feeling right now, hadn't been able to since Purgatory. The same applied to everyone around him, including his own brother. He remembered being willing to die for Dean in a hundred situations throughout his life, but now couldn't quite understand why. He was aware there was something wrong with him only ... only he didn't think it was _wrong_. He was different now but he was better. A better hunter. He could see things clearly and make decisions without emotions and doubts clouding his judgement. Without all that sadness and guilt and empathy the old him had carried around twenty-four seven.

He also knew enough to see that the emotional sacks of feelings around him, aka his 'family', would not understand nor agree with his recent epiphany and would want the old, encumbered Sam back. So he faked it best he could. He recognized the strange, concerned looks he was getting as suspicion but thankfully, his brother had bigger worries on his mind and wasn't pressing the issue right now. He figured when they eventually confronted him and refused to accept his logic, he would simply move on – maybe try working with the Campbells. Now _they_   were real hunters.

The place was big and Sam didn't argue when his brother suggested they split up to cover more ground. They could hear screaming and the occasional howls from various corners of the building but had only come across one demon since taking out the two at the exterior doors. Nodding curtly, he palmed the barrel of his shotgun and turned left at a bend in the corridor, leaving Dean to go right.

He followed the sound of a particularly pain-filled screaming through what looked like a mess hall and into the old kitchen. Shouldering his way through the heavy, swinging doors, he found a man with black eyes standing over a naked woman strapped to a stainless steel counter. The woman was bleeding and the demon was holding a knife and it didn't take a genius to figure out this was a torture session.

Sam didn't flinch or hesitate; he raised the shotgun and fired at the demon. The man dropped the knife and staggered backwards but recovered, striding forward through another salt round in the chest to swipe the shotgun out of the hunter's hands and slam him backwards against the wall.

Sam fought back but took a beating as he recited a Latin exorcism as quickly as he could between gasps of air and hard-felt punches. The demon smoked out just before he finished, escaping in a swirl of blackness through the ceiling. The disappointed hunter cursed out loud before turning to find the table empty and the woman gone. The straps were sliced through, presumably using the knife the demon had dropped when Sam had shot him.

He heard a faint noise behind him and spun, not sure what form of attack to expect since he didn't know what manner of creature she was.

Standing there naked and smiling at him demurely, she didn't look like much of a threat but Sam knew better. "What are you?" he demanded, taking a subtle step back closer to his dropped shotgun in case the silver knife in his jacket wasn't the right weapon.

"You just saved me," she purred, practically eye-fucking him as she stepped forward and lifted a hand to his face. She caressed his cheek softly and licked her lips before he batted her hand and shoved her roughly away from him.

"What are you?" he repeated impatiently, wondering if he should just kill her rather than bothering to gain firm assurance she was something other than human. He did, however, take a quick but appreciative glance at the splendid, naked physique on display in front of him.

She smiled at him, her lack of fear pretty much ruling out the human option. "You're going to get me out of here," she said matter-of-factly.

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh I am, am I?" He took another backwards step towards the shotgun. "I don't think so."

She frowned at him, the first glimmer of doubt showing in her eyes. "What do you ... why aren't you doing as I say?" She took another step forward, touching his cheek again. "I said you're going to get me out of here. You want nothing more than to see me safe."

Sam snorted, fingering his knife. "The Hell I do."

He drew the blade and slashed towards her exposed neck but she was too fast. She leaned back out of the knife's path and backhanded the weapon out of his grip. Then she grabbed his collar, tugged him forward, and sank her teeth into his neck.

"A vamp!" he hissed, shoving her off him and scampering for the gun again, realizing it wouldn't do much. He rolled over and snatched it up, firing as he rose to his feet.

She simply scowled down at the spattering of rock salt embedded in her chest and looked back at him. "Why aren't you worshipping me?"

"You're cute, but not that cute."

"Why aren't you doing as I say?" she repeated, withdrawing her fangs with a snap. "You're not a demon. How are you immune?"

"Oh crap," Sam realized out loud. "You're not a vamp; you're a succubus. You're trying to get me under your spell."

"Why _aren't_   you under my spell? You shouldn't be able to resist me."

He didn't know why he wasn't falling victim to her powers but he didn't care. _Don't look a gift horse in the mouth._   "So you thought I'd risk my life to get you out of this demon nest then let you fuck me to death?" he sneered. His hand absently moved to the bite mark on his neck and he frowned at her. "Wait a minute. You just need to touch me to compel me. Why did you bite me?"

She seemed edgy and nervous now that it was clear Sam was not under her control. "I don't bite to subdue," she admitted. "I bite to turn."

"Turn me? Why would you want to turn me?" His new lack of emotion was keeping his anger and hatred at bay and Sam was finding he could ask a lot more questions than his old self. This was a better way.

"I know I'm big and well built," he continued, "and a good fighter..."

"Oh don't flatter yourself," she laughed. "We're under instructions to turn as many as we can now. You know, upcoming war and all."

"Whose instructions? Crowley's?"

She snorted, jerking her head towards the table where she had been strapped down. "Does it look like I work for Crowley?"

"Who then...your Alpha?" Sam's interest was piqued. "Is he around? Has he come out of hiding? How do I find him?"

"Crowley and his demons couldn't make me spill on my Father," she said coldly. "What makes you think I'd tell you anything?"

Sam had been shuffling sideways slowly as he spoke and stooped suddenly to snatch his silver knife off the ground, now knowing it was indeed the right weapon. "I'll let you live," he offered.

"My father wouldn't."

"He never has to know."

She snorted. "He'll know. He knows everything about his children, especially these days." She seemed to gain confidence as she spoke of her Alpha. "He is strong within us these days. More than ever before. I can feel him, I can hear him, I can sense him. He will stop this injustice; he will protect his childre..."

She was interrupted by the sound of Dean calling for his brother. Sam's initial disappointment at the disruption gave way to the idea forming in his mind. This could be an opportunity.

"Today's your lucky day, bitch," he told her before backing out the doorway on the far side of the room. "Pretend you're human," he whispered quickly, closing the door between them.

She gave him a last, bewildered look before spinning to face the other hunter as he entered the room with his shotgun raised.

"Where's Sam?" Dean demanded, scanning the room and eyeing her warily.

"Oh, please help me," she whimpered, her entire demeanor changing instantly into that of a terrified human. Her arms were folded bashfully across her chest and she advanced on Dean quickly.

Dean took a step back, obviously noticing she was naked and getting a little flustered. "What happened in here?" he asked.

"That man..." She pointed to the dead demon meatsuit, her voice quivering, "was hurting me and ... and then this big guy came in and...shot him and..." She broke into convincing sobs and threw herself at Dean. "Please help me!"

Sam peeked through the small window in the door, shaking his head in disgust as his brother hesitated to shoot her and instead caught her by the arms in a gesture of wary comfort. He smirked in satisfaction, however, when the suspicious expression on Dean's face immediately morphed into one of lust and adulation.

The succubus dropped the damsel in distress act instantly and took a step back, eyeing her new prey with approval. "You're going to get me out of here safely," she told Dean, who nodded eagerly.

"Of course," the hunter said, his voice throaty. The frown on his face gave away his struggle to keep his distance and not move in for a kiss.

Sam watched with bated breath while she swayed her naked hips and reached up to run a hand through his brother's hair. Then, finally, she grabbed Dean's head and buried her face in his neck, sinking her fangs into his flesh. Sam chose that exact moment to barge through the door.

He grabbed a handful of her brown locks and yanked her backwards, slicing the silver knife deep across her neck. He shoved her hard onto the floor and kept slicing, back and forth until he felt the bone crack.

It was an extremely messy thing to do with a five inch blade but the head finally came off. He stood up and let out a huff of effort as he caught Dean's eye. "Damn vampires," was all he said.

Dean just nodded, looking at the bloody mess on the floor and pressing his hand to the open wound on his neck. His phone rang suddenly and he pulled it out of his pocket to glance at the screen.

Sam smirked. It was like the whole compelling incident with the succubus had never happened. Dean really had no idea he hadn't merely been bitten by a vampire. Sam wondered how long it would take for him to turn. How long would it be before Dean could hear the Alpha? Feel him inside and hopefully, if all went according to plan, lead the hunters right to him? Of course, Dean would first have to completely drain the life out of someone during sex to turn, but ...

"Babe! It's so good to hear your voice. Fuck, do you know how worried I've been?"

Watching his brother's demeanor change instantly and his face light up as he listened to the voice on the other end of the line, Sam smiled to himself.

... but that would happen soon enough.

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**


	9. And into the Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I posted the wrong chapter by accident. Here's the right one. :)

After a quick search for the Colt that turned up nothing except a couple of lackey demons, the hunters got out of the building before Crowley or reinforcements could show up. Dean pulled Tasha into a fierce hug when he first set eyes on her and they headed out to the Impala on the street. They all piled in and drove a few blocks away before Sam pulled over and Bobby started making phone calls.

There must have been close to a hundred captives in Crowley's prison and they needed hunters to take them out. Trying to determine what each monster was and then using the appropriate weapon to kill them could take a long time with only five of them and the risk that demon reinforcements would show up and outnumber them was too great. Within ten minutes, Bobby had at least a dozen fellow hunters making their way there, including Ellen and Jo. The plan was they all go in together at dawn.

Sam had taken the wheel, claiming he wasn't at all tired, and it was a long-standing rule that Dean didn't ride in the back seat of his own car unless either he was half-dead or had 'naked company of the female variety'. That left Tasha in the rear seat nestled between Cas and Bobby for the next five hours, the latter of whom grumbled about his lack of foresight in not bringing his own car.

"So what are we gonna do about Samuel?" Dean put the question out there already knowing what his own answer was.

"Not much we can do," Bobby offered his opinion first. "We get word out to other hunters that..."

"Word?" Dean interrupted incredulously. "What the fuck kind of response is that, Bobby? The douche handed another hunter over to a demon! Even if it hadn't been Tash, that's grounds for..."

"Don't even say it, Dean," Bobby cut him off. "Asshole or not, he's human and he's your grandfather. Like I was saying, I'll get word out that the Campbells can't be trusted. That oughta stop them in their tracks or at least make it harder for them to recruit. We need to figure out what his game plan is before we go off all half-cocked."

"I don't care what his game plan is! What he did..." Dean clenched his teeth and shook his head, glancing at the newly rescued brunette in the seat behind him. "There's only one way to deal with what he did."

"What? Kill them all?" the older man challenged. "That ain't you talkin', that's yer daddy, and you ain't him by a long shot. Cool yer heels for a day or two, son."

Sam joined in the debate on Bobby's side. "They're human, Dean. And they're still taking a lot of monsters and evil sons of bitches out of commission. Just because you don't like their methods..."

"Don't you mean we, Sam? We don't like their methods? Coz I'm not getting a whole lot of anger from you these past couple of days!"

"I don't like what he did and I'm glad we got Tash back." Sam turned in his seat, giving Tasha a smile and a nod. "I'm glad you're safe, really," he acknowledged before turning back to his brother. "But Bobby's right. There's a bigger picture here and we need to find out what it is before we do anything rash."

Dean pursed his lips. "Not good enough."

"He did it for you," Tasha offered quietly.

"What?" Dean frowned, thinking he hadn't heard her right for there was no way she could be defending the man who threw her to the wolves.

"Samuel. He made a deal with Crowley that if he keeps you two off Crowley's back, Crowley doesn't kill you. I heard them talking when he handed me over. He was trying to distract you. I think he really did it to keep you safe."

Sam gave her a curious look. "Why wouldn't he just tell us?"

"He kind of did," she reminded them of their first meeting with their grandfather. "Besides, like you two would have backed off when there's something big going down just because somebody says you're in danger."

"You should be more pissed than anyone, Tash," Dean pointed out.

She shrugged. "I don't want you killing your own grandfather, especially not on my account."

"She's right," Bobby chimed in. "Besides, they ain't all bad. Don't forget the Judas who gave you the address."

Tash raised an eyebrow. "Who gave you the address? Doc? That medic with the ponytail?"

"Mark," Sam offered, catching her eyes in the rear view mirror and grinning. "You used to bang him didn't you?"

Tasha's mouth dropped open in awkward surprise at the blunt question. "Well thanks for the broadcast, Mr Tactful."

Dean flashed his brother a disgruntled look before changing the subject. "Okay, so even if we don't gank Gramps, we still gotta shut down his operation. How do you suggest we do that?"

"We go after Crowley," Bobby said matter-of-factly. "He's the one threatening to kill you two. He's the demon in all this. He's the one trying to open a gate to Purgatory."

"We shouldn't forget Crowley's killing Alphas," Sam pointed out. "That's a good thing."

"That doesn't give him a pass," Dean growled. "Didn't you learn anything from the whole Ruby thing, Sam?"

The question went unanswered for Bobby spoke up quickly. "What I'm wonderin' is what does he want with Purgatory?"

"I think I know."

This was Cas's first contribution to the conversation and all eyes turned to fall on him as he continued.

"Death told me there was another who would cause more trouble than even Lucifer would have. By opening gates to Purgatory, Crowley is playing with fire. If he was to lose control of a gate, if the wrong thing was to get out..."

"But why is he opening them in the first place?" Dean pressed. "What does he want from there?"

"Souls," Cas answered solemnly. "Monster souls. It makes sense now. Souls hold great power. It can take decades, even centuries to corrupt a single human soul in hell, turning it into a demon. That is how resilient they are, how much power they hold within them. Imagine how much power a monster soul would have."

Bobby frowned. "But what do you do with it? How can you ... you know, harness the power?"

"You can't," was Cas's reply. "But an angel can."

The car fell silent.

"Mark said he thinks the Campbells are working for an angel, right?" Sam finally asked his brother.

"Yeah, but we know for sure Samuel's in cahoots with Crowley now instead."

Cas frowned. "No, I think there might be some truth to the angel theory."

"Wait, Samuel mentioned a silent partner to Crowley," Tasha exclaimed. "One that could protect the Campbells from you, Cas, if you came looking for me all smite-happy."

"Okay, so what angel would jump into bed with the King of Hell? Can't be Lucifer so one loyal to Lucifer?" Sam speculated.

Dean shook his head. "Nope. Crowley's plans definitely do not include letting Lucifer loose to steal his crown. He told me as much the first time I met him in the other timeline."

"Then who?" Sam demanded, finding Cas in the rear view.

Cas just shrugged. "I don't know. But as Death foretold, it may be just as bad as having Lucifer free. With the power from enough monster souls, this angel could rival Raphael or Michael ... maybe even both."

Dean let out a loud groan and slumped low in his seat. "Crap. Here we go again."

~x~x~x~x~x~x~

They had gathered with the other hunters in a small cafe a few miles away by the time dawn came around and the whole group headed over to the old prison together. Cas kept his distance, not feeling confident he could 'blend in' with the rough and hardened group and not wanting his true identity revealed. Most of them seemed almost eager to get started, not really minding that this was going to be the equivalent of a mass slaughter, monsters or not.

"A turkey shoot!" one of them had grinned eagerly.

As they left the cafe, Cas observed with interest while Dean's natural leadership instincts surfaced and the hunter automatically took charge of the mission without challenge, despite half the group being older than him. As they exited their cars in front of the facility, Dean started assigning positions and the ex-angel was relieved when he was given lookout duty with Tasha.

Tasha, on the other hand, was definitely not pleased at the assignment. She quickly pulled Dean aside and Cas couldn't help but overhear their exchange, listening with some measure of amusement.

"What the hell?" she hissed at Dean indignantly. "You're not sticking me at the kiddie table!"

"Tash, I don't have time for this," he replied curtly, moving to return to the clustered group but she yanked his arm back.

"Is this coz I got nabbed? You think I fucked up?" she challenged. "Like you've never dropped your guard for two seconds before and been caught!"

"It's not that at all," he bit back, not relenting. "I just...I need you to watch Cas's back, okay? You're the only one I trust with him."

With that he shrugged loose of her hold and motioned for the group to move forward, ending the argument abruptly. Cas could see Tasha's forced restraint in her stiff shoulders as she watched them leave but she bit her tongue and the two of them headed over to keep watch at the gate.

"This is bullshit," she groused when they found themselves alone. "You don't need a babysitter and he knows it. He's always treated me like an equal in a hunt. Always. I screw up once and suddenly I'm incompetent? Even Jo got to go in."

Cas knew her well enough to know her anger was only skin deep and would pass quickly. Her father had called her his 'Little Spanish Spitfire' for a reason. He also knew she wasn't looking for a response but he gave his opinion anyway.

"Tash, he doesn't think you screwed up," he told her. "A month ago Dean watched you die. He just spent three days not knowing if you were alive or dead and just got you back from a monster-filled demon prison run by the King of Hell. You need to give him a little peace of mind where you're concerned, just for a little while. That's all he is seeking right now."

As she stared at him, the anger slowly drained from her face and the stiffness in her shoulders relaxed a little. "Oh," she said simply, clearly realizing the truth behind Cas's words.

They stood in silence for a few moments, eyeing the surrounding area intently for signs of demons approaching. It was Tasha who spoke first.

"Hey Cas?" she said hesitantly. "Thanks for coming in there to get me."

"Of course," he said quickly, though his head tilted at the sincerity in her words.

"No, I mean it. I know I'm kind of... I mean, with you I've been, uh..." She searched for the right words.

"Distant?" he supplied for her. He was well aware she made a conscious effort to avoid his company.

She laughed. "I was going to say bitchy but yeah, that probably sums it up. I'm sorry if I seem that way to you."

Cas let out a deep chuckle, a rare smile appearing on his face. "actually, this past month has been easy compared to the last time."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked.

"The first time we got to know each other," he clarified. "You were pregnant, hormonal, stubborn, difficult, and you blamed me for everything for the first nine months so frankly, you avoiding me right now isn't really that bad."

She gave him a sheepish grin. Yeah, that sounded like her.

"I know that with your upbringing, you don't form bonds easily," he continued. "But you let me in eventually before. I don't mind giving you some time to get there again."

She remained quiet but he noticed her facial expression soften slightly and felt some of the distance between them melt away. He realized how much he missed his friendship with her. It had been different from the one he had with Dean, not as profound and less complicated, but it was still a strong bond and he treasured it. It seemed especially important to him now that everything he was had been stripped away and all he had left was a handful of humans that called him friend.

She held his gaze for a moment before snorting and rolling her eyes, clearly growing uneasy with the talk of feelings and friendship. "Okay, so obviously when you became human you decided to model yourself after Sam and start spouting girly shit," she teased.

"I don't believe I have the cultural verbiage to emulate Bobby and I certainly don't have the machismo to imitate Dean," he replied with a serious expression.

Her laugh rang out so loud she clamped a hand over her mouth to catch it when she remembered they were on stake out duty. "I dunno, Cas," she grinned at him. "You were pretty butch charging into Purgatory after Sam." She gave him a studious look. "But now that you're human, you know, you don't miraculously stay clean so, dude, no offense, you should really take a shower and comb your hair a little." Her eyes had that teasing sparkle that he remembered so well from their five years together.

"And wash that damn trench coat."

~x~x~x~x~x~x~

It was a dirty, unpleasant job but Crowley's prisoners were all dead within a couple of hours. One hunter, Jefferson from Tulsa, received a fractured wrist courtesy of a Rawhead who broke loose briefly, but that was the only serious injury. Crowley never showed up and Bobby filled in his 'hunter posse' (as Dean gleefully labelled it) on the situation with the Campbells before everybody packed up and went their separate ways. Bobby saw them all off then headed home with Ellen and Jo.

Sam got behind the wheel of the Impala and drove in relative silence with Dean, Cas, and Tasha all dozing off to the sounds of CCR and Bob Seger. It had been a long few days. They filed wearily into Bobby's house around suppertime.

Tasha requested first dibs on the shower, claiming she had two days' worth of Crowley's stinkhole to wash off. Dean watched her saunter down the hallway and his mind was suddenly filled with the image of her naked and wet, beads of water clinging to her nipples before dropping to slide down across the taut flesh of her stomach.

Jeez, he was worse than a frigging horny teenager. He pushed the dirty thoughts aside and proceeded to help Bobby put the extra weaponry back in the basement. Ten minutes later, as he passed the bathroom door and heard the shower still running, he found himself back in randy teenage mode. Without even thinking, he jimmied the locked door open with one swift swipe of his knife, stepping inside and closing it behind him. He undressed swiftly, his breath quickening already at the thought of what was waiting behind that curtain for him.

Lost in the relaxing warmth of the much-needed shower, Tasha was startled when he stepped in behind her. He gave her a lusty grin when she let out a squeal of fright, spinning around to face him with her hands instinctively balled into fists.

"Jesus, Dean!" she gasped. "What are you...?"

"Mmmmm, babe," he said, his voice low and his eyes roving as he stepped up to her. "Wet and naked is a really good look for you."

His hands started on her breasts and slid down to rest in the curve of her waist. She gave up any semblance of resistance almost immediately and he pulled her against him, tilting his head down to capture her lips with his. She practically drew his tongue into her mouth with hers, small hands wrapping firmly around his back. Breathing while kissing under a steady stream of water proved to be harder than it looked in movies and Dean soon lifted his head to catch his breath.

He spun her around, pulling her back against him, grinding his hips so she could feel how turned on he was. She let out a loud, needy moan and Dean almost lost it right there. A strong urge came over him to simply slam her up against the shower wall and drive into her until she screamed but the way she was moaning and pressing back against him - he was a heartbeat away from orgasm right now. Her right hand was up over her shoulder, clasping at the back of his neck, trying to draw their bodies impossibly closer while the fingers of her left were entwined with his, guiding his hand in slow, soapy circles across the front of her body. Her head was tilted back into his shoulder, her eyes closed and her mouth slightly open in an expression of pure enjoyment and her hips - sweet lord the way her hips were swaying back and forth, rubbing against his aching hardness...

He dipped down to nibble and suck on her neck, groaning at the feel of her wet skin sliding against his. With his free hand, he palmed a breast, kneading and squeezing and giving the nipple a sharp twist before letting his fingers wander downward. He caressed slow circles across the smooth, slick surface of her belly before sliding his hand in between her legs. Her whole body jerked and she released a desperate moan, her fingers tightening around his and tugging at the short hair at the back of his neck. Her one leg lifted slightly to give him better access and her hips bucked into his hand.

"Unhhhhh, Dean pleeease," she begged him, her voice dripping with need.

He couldn't remember a time he was so turned on, a time he had ever wanted her so badly. He wanted nothing more than to make her cum, to have her release at his touch; it was like he was starving for it. He bit lightly down on her shoulder and thrust two fingers deep inside her, shuddering as he felt her reaction rip through both her body and his. He began sliding the fingers in and out, slowly at first then faster and faster as his self-control slipped away. She was soon crying out every time he plunged them in, heedless of the fact they were in the echo-prone bathroom with a houseful of people just down the hall in the living room. She was usually more restrained inside the house and her sudden abandon just escalated Dean's urges. He found himself panting in anticipation of her climax and he began to rock his hips against her ass, his full length sliding back and forth between her legs in time with his fingers. He couldn't believe the intensity of his lust right now, how powerful his need for physical intimacy and release. He could only guess it stemmed from almost losing her; the culmination of his fear, his relief, and his love manifesting in a purely physical manner.

It hit her suddenly and she cried out a long and drawn out version of his name that he was sure the neighbors could hear. He felt her tremble and shudder against him and he soaked it up, keeping his fingers pumping in and out of her until she finally withered in his arms. The water was still hot and the shower spray was bouncing off her heaving chest as he held her close against him, her quivering thighs sending pleasurable spasms up his hard length.

Damn, if a finger fuck was this intense, what was going to happen when he put his dick in her?

They stayed as they were, gripping each other tightly for as long as Dean could bear, trying to let her recover. Finally he spun her around to face him, his breath heavy and his eyes hungry. He pulled her forward out from under the water and his mind swirled with countless options of how he was going to fuck her, the only common factors being 'hard' and 'thoroughly'.

He quickly decided she needed get up against the wall and spread her legs for him but as he guided her past him towards the back of the shower, her knees suddenly buckled and she staggered slightly before he caught her. Still breathing heavily, he gave her a look of concern as he gripped her waist to steady her.

"Babe, you okay?"

"Yeah," she panted, her hands sliding up across his chest. "I just got woozy for a sec." She peered up at him, her eyes filled with lust. "Sorry. I couldn't sleep in that place from all the screaming and they didn't feed me much. I guess it just caught up with me for a second. I'm good now."

Her words were like a slap of reality in Dean's face and he wrapped his hands over hers, stopping them from continuing their downward path. "Oh, shit, Tash, I'm sorry," he breathed. "I didn't even think. You should rest."

"Mmmm, no way," she moaned, now staring down at the way he was standing at full attention, the tip sliding back and forth across her belly as she started to sway her hips side to side. "I want you in me."

He dropped his reluctance hastily, another wave of heat and need surging through him at the sultry tone of her voice, somehow convincing him she could rest after he had finished with her. He urged her towards the back of the shower again where she planted her hands on the tile wall, spreading her legs and wiggling her ass at him invitingly. He licked his lips and slapped it playfully but as he stepped up behind her and gripped her hips, he felt her swoon. Her head rolled forward and her legs suddenly gave way once more.

"Tash?" he gasped as he caught her, concern once again winning out over his seemingly out-of-control libido. "Okay, that's it." He forced himself to take his mind off his intensely hard erection and pulled her upwards by the waist. "You need to rest first."

She forced her legs back under her, leaning back against him and tilting her head back to give him an apologetic look. "I don't know why I'm so weak all of a sudden," she said breathlessly as he helped her out of the shower and turned it off. A tired but dirty grin spread across her face. "Let's take this to the bedroom and you can have your way with me 'till I pass the fuck out."

"Oh God yes," he growled with barely controlled restraint, grabbing one of Bobby's larger towels and wrapping it around her before snatching his jeans up and pulling them on as fast as he could, not bothering to buckle the belt. "What the hell are you doing to me, woman? I'm so fucking horny for you right now."

"I can see that," she grinned, eyeing the painful bulge in his pants. "Trust me, it's mutual."

He charged forward, scooping her up and laughing when she squealed loudly, frantically trying to keep her towel around her as he pulled at the bathroom door handle. He carried her down the hallway and up the stairs to the bedroom they had claimed as theirs. He could hear voices in the living room calling out disgusted, teasing remarks at them and passed a grinning Sam at the top of the stairs but he ignored them all, his only thought being to get Tasha to that bedroom and fuck her until he was sated and spent.

He literally tossed her on the bed and fumbled with his button and fly, almost tripping in his haste to get his jeans back off past his feet. He laughed at his own lack of grace and launched himself onto the bed, crawling up the mattress on his hands and knees until he was hovering over top of her. The towel was open and she lay on her back but her head was tipped sideways and her eyes closed.

"Tash?" he questioned, his voice coming out in a groan of disappointment. She didn't respond and her breathing was slow and even, the heat from the shower still radiating from her body. "Tash?"

Shit. She was asleep. He dipped his hips down, nudging her knees apart and sliding his rock hard length along her slick entrance. "Tash," he breathed in her ear, trying to coax her awake. "Babe, you awake?" Still no response but staring down at her spread out and naked beneath him was more than he could take. He needed to be in her. Every nerve ending in his body was screaming at him to do it. He reached down and grasped himself at the base, guiding the tip slowly to the hot crevice that was begging him to thrust in deep. He was about to do just that when his gaze fell upon her face. She looked so peaceful. Her soft skin still damp and her wet hair splayed out in thick strands on the sheet beneath her. Her long lashes fluttered ever so slightly and her chest rose slowly with every breath.

What the fuck was he doing? He pushed back quickly, backing right up off the bed. Jesus, was he really going to do that? She was exhausted and very much passed out and he had been about to... He still wanted to. Shockingly, a big part of him was arguing his case inside his head. They were a couple. She had never turned him down. One thrust and she would surely wake up. He had woken her up with his tongue between her legs on several occasions and she had loved it. He licked his lips and his gaze fell to that very spot on her now. Hmmm, his tongue... He rubbed both his hands down across his face, trying to snap himself out of it. He was going to let her sleep. He would wait until she was rested and awake and could enjoy it. Before he could change his mind, he grabbed the blanket and threw it up over her naked torso, covering the near-irresistible temptation. He tugged his jeans back on and without looking back, left the room.

~x~x~x~x~x~x~

Sam watched unseen through the crack of his bedroom door, feeling both satisfaction and disappointment when Dean emerged from the room he shared with Tasha. His brother was rubbing an anxious hand through his short hair and adjusting an obvious hard-on within his jeans.

Sam was pleased the succubus poison was starting to have an effect far more quickly that he had expected but he was disappointed that Dean hadn't been in the room long enough to have reached orgasm and drained the brunette enough to have turned. Dean would need to turn completely to sense the Alpha. It was unfortunate the process would kill Tasha since she was a good hunter and her loss would affect the rest of the group, but the closeness the pair shared made her Dean's obvious and most likely target. Besides, Dean's death would be the greater loss. Sam knew without a doubt his brother was an excellent hunter and they worked well together but as soon as he had fully turned and led Sam to the Alpha, Sam would have to put him down like any other monster. Regrettable but ... but this was a chance at an Alpha. The hunter in him just couldn't pass that up.

~x~x~x~x~x~x~

Dean lingered a few minutes in the hallway upstairs, a little embarrassed now about the high-volume shower antics. Eventually he sucked it up and headed down to join them for supper, brushing off the good-natured teasing he received with a laugh and a typical Dean-smirk. Ellen had cooked up enough fried chicken to feed a small army and the mood at the table was high-spirited now that Tasha had been recovered safe and sound, even though she was sleeping upstairs and not part of the celebration.

Dean allowed himself to relax and enjoy this small victory, shelving his worries over Samuel and Crowley for a night. As they ate, he couldn't help but notice how good Jo looked tonight. Getting four kills under her belt at Crowley's prison certainly agreed with her. She practically glowed and her hips had adopted a confident swagger Dean had never noticed before. He went so far as to feel guilty when his gaze drifted to that sexy-as-hell ass of hers as the blonde bent over to grab another beer from the fridge.

His runaway thoughts were interrupted by Ellen leaning over in front of him to reach for the bowl of mashed potatoes. An enticing smell hit his nostrils and he inhaled deeply, soaking it in. Wow, Ellen sure smelled good. She smelled musky and heady and ... all woman. And damn! For an older broad, she had a nice set of tits on her. His gaze lingered on the ample cleavage hovering over the corn.

Jeez, Dean, get a grip! Sure, Tash had riled him up and left him hanging but it's not like he'd never had that happen before. He'd have to take care of himself and soon, he realized with a sigh.

Supper was over and everyone had moved into the living room before he simply couldn't ignore the fact that something wasn't right. Ellen had picked up some clothes for Cas at the Sioux Falls Salvation Army and insisted the ex-angel get out of the bloody shirt of Dean's that he was wearing. Cas had figured out fairly quickly not to argue with the elder Harvelle so he stood up briskly from the couch and stripped from the waist up. Dean eyed Cas's surprisingly well-toned physique and felt his jeans tightening. He excused himself and went out to the garage, leaning against his baby and taking a deep breath.

Something was seriously wrong with him. His fingers lifted to graze the bite mark on his neck. Crap.

It had been a long two days and the gang retired early, leaving a relieved Dean alone downstairs. He started roving through Bobby's books, looking for any explanation other than the unthinkable one he was suspecting. Love spell, cursed sex object, scorned chick gone witch ...

Dean had run all the possibilities through his mind and through Bobby's library but only one made sense. Succubus.

By dawn he was convinced. His theory was put to the final test when Ellen rambled down the stairs to put a pot of coffee on and greeted him warmly. He was still at Bobby's desk in front of the laptop and she put her hand over his in a friendly gesture of comfort as she told him how happy she was for him to have Tasha back. That's when things got weird. Her expression instantly changed and she was no longer giving him that motherly look of concern he so often caught her throwing his way. No, this was an expression of lust - mixed maybe with a little shock, most likely aimed at herself.  He felt his jeans tightening again and he jumped up off his chair, stepping back hastily just as she was saying something about hearing him in the shower yesterday and imagining...

"Ellen, I gotta go," he interrupted. "I got an errand to run."

He snatched his jacket and keys and literally ran out to his car without looking back. The Impala kicked up a cloud of dust as it sped down Bobby's driveway.

Samuel. The grandfather he had wanted to kill yesterday was now his only option. After the fight in the Daeva house, Mark and Gwen had told them the Campbell patriarch had cures for a number of supernatural ailments. He just hoped Succubus was among them.

Otherwise he was screwed. 

~x~x~x~x~x~x~


	10. The Enemy Within

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi CrazyLadyinVegas, Yes, Sam certainly is acting that way, lol, this chap will answer that question for you. And yes, I am definitely using many (most) of the concepts from season 6 but changing them up enough so that they are completely different stories.

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

The sun was well above the stacks of junkers in Bobby's yard by the time Tasha woke up. She blinked at the bright rays streaming in through the bedroom's second floor window and reached lazily for Dean only to find herself alone in the bed. A hungry growl from her stomach reminded her she had fallen asleep before supper and she sat up wearily. Glancing at the clock, she could hardly believe she had slept that long. She was up and pulling on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt before she remembered the shower with Dean and ... _crap she had been loud_. Like _really_ loud. What the Hell had come over her?

She groaned in anticipated embarrassment, heading downstairs for some food. She found Cas in the living room, sitting silently on the couch staring at nothing and gave him a polite smile as she passed. Apparently when you have eternal life, you can spend hours on end just thinking. According to Dean, Cas had done most of his 'reflection' in privacy in various random spots all over the globe but since turning human and finding himself virtually stranded without his wings, he tended to spend a lot of time sitting on the couch staring into space. A little odd, but Tasha couldn't help but feel she could relate, having spent most of her life alone. Solitude had never bothered her until she met Dean. But right now she felt sorry for Cas; the transition from winged super-being to plain old human being had to be rough.

She found Bobby and Ellen in the kitchen. "Sleep well, darlin'?" the older man asked cheerily as she entered.

"Yeah, thanks," she replied, greeting them both with a sheepish smile. "Where's Dean?"

Bobby shrugged. "Dunno. He texted to say he'd be gone for the day but wouldn't say what he was up to. We were kinda hoping you'd know."

She frowned and shook her head. "He said he'll be gone all day?"

"Yup. Ellen says he tore outta here round dawn."

Tasha pulled out her phone and dialed Dean immediately, thinking it strange he would leave without telling her, especially right after she got back from being missing for three days but it went straight to his voicemail.

"Dean, it's me. Call me back." She looked back to Bobby and Ellen. "I don't like this," she admitted.

"Sam didn't either," Ellen said with a raised eyebrow. "He came down from the shower this morning and when I told him Dean had just left, he stormed outside like the sky was falling and took off after him."

"May be we should GPS Dean's phone?" Tasha suggested, getting a bad feeling. _Was there something going on the brothers weren't telling her about?_

"Already tried," Bobby groused. "He's got it turned off. Got a hold of Sam though. He says he figures Dean's headed to Samuel's place and not to worry; he'll take care of it." He shook his head. "I thought that idjit had agreed to let things lie 'til we figure out what Samuel and Crowley are really up to."

"He had," Tasha confirmed, puzzled. "I should go after him."

Bobby shook his head. "Sam took your car and that's the only one we got here fast enough to keep time with Dean in his damn baby. On top of that, he's got a three hour headstart on you now."

"Yeah, honey," Ellen agreed, tapping a chair. "You've had a rough few days. Take a seat and I'll fix you something to eat. Sam can handle his brother."

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

Sam wasn't sure what he was feeling. He would have thought it would be 'pissed' since he had discreetly been keeping an eye on Dean all night, waiting for him to go back to bed and finish what he had started with Tasha. His brother had spent the entire night in Bobby's library just to take off during the ten minutes Sam had figured he was safe to jump in the shower. He should be pissed. He was definitely displeased that his best chance at getting an Alpha had given him the slip, but he didn't feel anger or any real emotion at the setback. All he could 'feel' was a deep drive to complete the mission - to finish the hunt - and that was what had made him jump in Tasha's car and take off after his brother. If he could stop Dean from reaching the Campbell compound and possibly finding a cure before fully turning, he could get his plan back on track.

He didn't even have to get Dean home to Tasha, he realized. If the information he had learned on succubi was correct, it would mean the urges his infected brother would be feeling would be getting stronger and stronger and resisting them would become more and more difficult. The same went for others resisting him. Sam was fairly certain that at this point, all he would have to do was get Dean in close proximity to a female, like at a diner or a convenience store, and the succubus poison would take care of the rest. That was _if_   he could catch up to him. He pressed his foot even harder on the Challenger's accelerator pedal, glancing down briefly at the speedometer as the needle swung from 85mph up to a hundred.

It was less than five minutes later he heard the sirens and his lips tightened in a frustrated grimace when the flashing lights appeared in his rear view.

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

Dean made the trip to Samuel's place in what had to be record time. He wasn't quite sure yet how he was going to get some face time with dear old Gramps without physically touching anyone though. He'd had a close call stopping to fill his tank at a gas station when even an average-looking woman in a minivan had pulled up at the pump next to him and touched his bare forearm to get his attention to ask directions.

Then there was the added complication of him having threatened to kill everyone the last time he had been here. That might prove to make things awkward.

He pulled up to the gate, not surprised when he was confronted by an angry-looking hunter with a rifle. "What the fuck you doing back here, Winchester?"

Dean raised his hands where he sat behind the Impala's wheel in a gesture of submission. "I come in peace," he quipped, trying his best to seem friendly. "Just want to talk to my grandfather."

"Yeah, right," the guy snorted. "Like that's gonna happen."

"Look, can you just tell him I'm here and I need to talk to him?" Dean kept his cool. "Please. It's important."

The guy frowned but made a phone call. He was listening and shaking his head at Dean but when Dean interrupted with a loud "Samuel, I just need to talk. I'll play nice," the guard shrugged and nodded, directing Dean to the biggest building.

Once out of the car, Dean handed over his gun and two knives right away in an effort to avoid being searched. He cringed when he was turned around against his car anyway and patted down by an older, bearded hunter. Luckily, the guy wasn't overly enthusiastic and didn't evoke too much of a reaction from beneath Dean's fly.

Insisting on a private conversation, Dean finally found himself alone with Samuel in the older man's office. He decided to start with the elephant in the room. "Look, I know you handed Tasha over to Crowley but I was outvoted on how to deal with you so for now, I'm not going to rip your throat out," he said bluntly, unable to keep the anger from his voice.

Samuel didn't bother denying his part in Tasha's kidnapping. "You don't know what's at stake, Dean," he said simply. "You don't know everything that's going on here so I suggest you reserve judgement for now. Just trust me when I say I'm on your side."

Dean clenched his fists at his side. " _My_   side?" he ground out. "You put someone I care about in danger!"

"I did it to protect you and your brother."

Dean waved his arm in the air. "Save it! We can take care of ourselves. We faced down a frigging global apocalypse last year and we're both still standing. Besides, I would die in a heartbeat before I would allow Tasha to be put in danger. Surely you can relate. You remember your _wife_ , Deanna? What would you have done if someone handed her over to a demon? Nothing you can say can justify what you did."

"You don't understand what's at stake," Samuel repeated.

"Then why don't you tell me?"

His grandfather pursed his lips and reached for his wallet in his back pocket, digging around inside and pulling out a small photo. He handed it to Dean, who took it gingerly, making sure to keep his distance from Samuel and not allow their skin to touch.

It was Mary Winchester at twenty years old. "What does Mom have to do with all this?" Dean rasped.

"She's the reason I'm doing this."

"What do you mean? She's dead and you're working with a demon."

"You were dead. Sam was dead. I was dead. But we're all here now, aren't we? Crowley is a _crossroads_   demon..."

Dean's heart lurched and he shook his head vigorously. "No, don't even think that way! It doesn't end well. It's a bad idea. Trading with souls..."

"That's just it! He doesn't want a soul. He wants Alphas so he can stop Lucifer from coming topside. Ever hear the saying 'enemy of my enemy is my friend'?"

"There's a catch!" Dean exclaimed, still horrified at the lengths his grandfather was willing to go to bring Mary back. "There's always a catch! And Lucifer isn't getting out; Sam and I took care of that already. Mom wouldn't want this."

"You didn't know her!" Samuel snapped. "You were barely out of diapers when she died."

"She was my _mom!"_ Dean fired back quickly. "And I know she would never agree to this!"

"I'm not going to argue this with you, son, and I don't have to justify myself to you. Besides, there's more to this than Mary. The archangel Michael is the head honcho upstairs and he's trying everything he can to get Lucifer's cage back open. You may have stopped the Devil from coming topside last time but the angels haven't given up."

"And you know this how? Because you're working with an angel?" Dean scoffed. "Angels can't be trusted. Tell me, which one's got you bending over and taking it for him?"

He cleared his throat uncomfortably as his last comment suddenly brought a disturbingly erotic image to mind... _bald head, baby oil..._

Samuel let out a long sigh and didn't answer for a full minute. "What are you doing here, Dean?" he said finally.

Realizing he wasn't going to get any further with this conversation, Dean admitted the real reason he had come to Samuel. Hoping the older hunter wasn't going to pull out a gun and put a silver bullet in him, he explained that he was fairly sure he was bitten by a succubus during the raid on the jail and that Gwen and Mark had mentioned Samuel had cures for all sorts of things. Samuel listened in silence with a convincingly concerned frown, his thumb under his chin and his index finger bent across his upper lip.

Finally, he nodded and turned to reach into his desk for something. "How's Sam?" he asked, pulling out a cell phone.

Dean narrowed his eyes in suspicion. Not the reaction he was expecting. "Why are you asking?"

Samuel didn't answer and his forehead creased in concentration as he played with the phone for a long minute, muttering curses about _'fandangled gizmos_ ' under his breath. Eventually, he seemed to find what he was looking for and passed the phone to Dean, who took it and looked down at the small screen to see a room he recognized as the one in which he was attacked by the succubus.

"Are you sure your brother's alright?" Samuel asked cautiously, studying him and looking for a reaction that would indicate otherwise. "Because Crowley had video surveillance in the jail and he sent this to me. I wasn't sure what it meant at first but..."

There was no sound on the video, but Dean watched as Sam entered the room and killed the demon that had been torturing the naked woman. It was eerie watching it from the top corner of the room in silence but the eerie factor increased tenfold with what happened next. The woman touched Sam but the tall hunter still fought back, swiping at her with a knife. Then she actually bit him and he still fought some more. They seemed to be having a conversation when Sam's head jerked up, obviously hearing Dean calling for him. He simply said something to her then turned and left the room quickly right before Dean entered. Dean watched the screen in stunned silence as the succubus touched him then bit him and he remembered the sudden urge he had felt to do exactly as she said, to help her get out of there, and the intense lust he had felt towards her at that moment. At the time, he had chalked it up to the fact that she was naked and hot but now knew better.

Dean was horrified. Why had Sam not been compelled by the succubus like he had? How had the younger hunter resisted enough to fight back against her after she had touched him? And worse, why had he simply left when he had heard Dean coming his way?

The sick feeling in Dean's stomach was his answer. He had known in his gut something was wrong with Sam ever since the kid had come back from Purgatory but he had never suspected it was something so wrong that Sam would actually let a succubus deliberately infect his own brother.

He pulled on his game face. He couldn't let Samuel know there was something wrong with Sam or the Campbells might decide he was fair game and go after him. Memories of Gordon Walker came to mind and he swallowed nervously. "My brother's fine," he managed. "So do you have a cure for succubus or not?"

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

Sam didn't bother continuing on his way after the hour-long delay caused by the South Dakota State Troopers. He would have simply overpowered them or even shot them but they were competent and wary and kept their guns on the ready. Luckily, Tasha's car was registered properly to her current fake name and the cops didn't take him in once they had established the Challenger hadn't been reported stolen but they frustratingly took their sweet time issuing him a ticket. It was with reluctance he turned back to Bobby's, hoping Samuel would not have a cure and Dean would eventually call looking for help.

Tasha was clearly worried when he returned without Dean and was a heartbeat away from heading out after him herself but a reassuring text from the missing hunter calmed her down and she decided to trust Dean that he wasn't going to do anything too foolish.

Sam opted to just wait and see what happened so when Jo suggested they do some target practice together, he agreed. They headed out into the salvage yard and set up a long line of cans. With her Beretta, Jo took out the first ten cans with only twelve shots, impressive even though she paused to take careful aim before each one.

With a smirk, Sam held his big Glock in two hands, arms outstretched in front of him and fired off ten fast rounds in a row. Ten cans went flying. _Damn, he was better than he used to be._

Jo let out a thrilled hoot, giving the tall hunter an enormously impressed look. Sam just shrugged nonchalantly, one side of his lip curling up in a smug smile.

Jo laughed. "Well I'll be damned. Sam Winchester, you're kind of bad ass, you know that?"

Sam arched an interested eyebrow. "I thought you liked bad ass."

He watched her blush and look away quickly, moving to reload her gun for the next round. His eyes roamed down to the narrow strip of exposed skin he could see between her t-shirt and her jeans before dropping to her shapely ass. He licked his lips as his mind drifted away from Dean and the Alpha plan.

For the past month, he had been living under the same roof with two very good-looking girls and he couldn't believe the 'old' him hadn't banged either of them. He had a couple of complicated past encounters with Tasha but since his trip to Purgatory, he had thought several times about attempting to initiate a repeat of those, Dean's presence being the inhibiting factor. But right now, Jo Harvelle was even more appealing.

Jo and Tasha were very different people and not just because of Tasha's dark features versus Jo's golden locks and fair complexion. The brunette was untamed and had an exotic, almost feral appeal to her but there was something so innocent about Jo, so pure and so girl-next-door. It made Sam want to corrupt her. It made him want to fuck her. It made him want to fuck her hard and fuck her dirty.

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

Dean debated going back to the house but decided he needed Bobby's help tracking down some of the ingredients for Samuel's supposed cure. He also needed to warn Bobby about Sam. He dared not tell Tash that Sam had deliberately let the succubus infect him for she just might shoot the guy herself. As much as she cared for Sam, Dean had no doubts about the incredible depth of feelings his girlfriend had for him. Being put first by somebody so openly and so unquestionably was a foreign experience for Dean, who was used to coming second to hunting and revenge and even 'normal'. Bobby, on the other hand, had as much love for Sam as he did for Dean and had been like a second father to both boys for over twenty years so surely he would be more objective. They needed to find out what was wrong with him and how to fix him.

It was the middle of the night when he arrived at Singer Salvage, coasting his car up to the back garage so as not to wake anyone up. He had texted Tash earlier in the afternoon to say he was fine but had something to take care of and wouldn't be back for a couple of days. He had then taken the battery back out of his phone to avoid being tracked, sliding it back in just twenty minutes ago to text Bobby and ask him to meet him outside.

Standing a few feet away as ordered, Bobby listened in grim silence as Dean explained he had been infected by a succubus. The older hunter was alarmed at Samuel's plan of bringing Mary back and visibly relieved upon hearing Samuel had a cure, but wasn't forgiving enough to let the senior Campbell off the hook for not sharing his knowledge with the general hunting community.

"Knowledge is what separates a thug with a silver knife and a shotgun from a great hunter," he said knowingly. "No wonder the younger Campbells follow him so blindly; he's like a hunter god to them. He keeps them in line by keepin' the information under his control."

The list of ingredients wasn't all that long but a few of the items were going to prove difficult to get. Bobby suggested Dean hole himself up in the panic room while he worked on it but Dean shook his head.

"Nah, Bobby, I need you to take care of something else for me." He proceeded to explain what he had seen in the video and his certainty that Sam had come back from Purgatory wrong. "I need you to find out what's wrong with him. I need you to help him," he practically pleaded.

"And whose gonna help _you_ , son?" Bobby frowned.

"I'll be fine," Dean insisted. "I just have to avoid touching people and I'll be fine. Trust me, I'm better off doing this by myself."

Bobby reluctantly agreed and divulged where Dean could get his hands on the tricky items on the cure list. He agreed a little more readily to keep the full extent of Sam's culpability in Dean's situation from the women, especially Tasha. With a tired sigh, he headed back inside and down to the basement to prepare the panic room for an unwilling guest. It was with a heavy heart he realized it hadn't been that long since Sam was last locked in there to detox from demon blood. _God, his boys just couldn't catch a break._

Meanwhile, Dean slipped inside the house and grabbed his duffle from where he had left it in the kitchen. He loaded it into the back of the Impala and was trying to close the trunk very quietly when he heard someone right behind him.

" _Dean_!" Tasha called in a hushed voice as he spun around. His eyes widened and he started to back away but she grabbed his forearm before he could react. "What are you doing back?"

She had obviously heard him with Bobby and dashed downstairs to catch him for she was just wearing one of Dean's shirts and her legs were exposed from the thighs down to her bare feet. He yanked his arm away but her fingers followed his motion and tightened around his wrist ... this time touching skin.

Whatever words she was about to say, whatever question had been about to spill from her lips, dissolved in an instant, as did his will to get her as far away from him as possible.

His heart quickened its pace and he felt an overpowering impulse to tear her clothes off and fuck her right there just outside the garage. He tried to fight it, tried to resist but the knowledge that it was the succubus venom affecting him was losing its battle with the intense urges coursing through him. He could smell her, more acutely than ever before, and her scent was both erotic and intoxicating.

He might have been able to resist, been able to pull himself together and walk away, but Tasha had clearly fallen completely under the spell of the succubus poison. She was suddenly all over him, her hands roaming up his chest and her body pressing against his. He quivered and staggered backwards as his willpower quickly dwindled. Her breath was coming out in barely perceptible moans and her eyes were hooded with lust as they connected with his.

"Dean, baby," she whispered, her voice throaty. "Please, touch me."

He knew he could tell her to stop, tell her to back off and she would have to obey. He knew he could compel her to do whatever he pleased and for a split second, he thought he was going to get the words out but they never came. Her hand palmed the front of his jeans and next thing he knew, he was pressing her up against the driver's door of the Impala, his mouth devouring hers hungrily. His hand reached up beneath the shirt she was wearing and yanked down her tiny cotton sleep shorts. He pulled his hard and ready length out of his jeans and within seconds, her legs were wrapped around his waist and he plunged forward, sinking hilt deep inside her in three harsh, jerky thrusts.

Dean had always been big on foreplay. He had always wanted to make sure the woman he was with enjoyed herself as much as he did, make sure she finished and was left satisfied so he could lessen his guilt about whatever lies he had told to get her into his bed. It was for this reason he was always willing to use his considerable skills to bring his partner to orgasm before he took the dive and saw to his own needs. This habit had continued into his honest relationship with Tasha for different reasons, for a genuine want to please her and bring her pleasure. But in this moment, gracious and considerate were not in his vocabulary. He wanted his own release – the very thought of it was consuming him, controlling him; it was the driving force behind every one of his forceful thrusts. Her orgasm and her pleasure were completely irrelevant at this point.

Her arms were around him, hands fisted in the fabric of his shirt and clinging to him as he pounded into her harder and harder, her loud moans begging him for more. "Oh Dean!" she called out, her head rolling from side to side in pure bliss.

"Quiet," he whispered urgently, picking up the pace, ignoring the fact that some scary-as-shit part of him was calm, collected, and making sure somebody didn't come out here and stop him before he could get what he wanted from Tash. "Be quiet."

Unable to refuse him, she nodded obediently and silenced her lustful cries, instead humming out low, desperate moans every time he rammed his hips forward, fucking her mercilessly against the car.

It was euphoric; this feeling that was flowing into him, growing and spreading through his insides every time he plunged into her. He was ravenous and was feeding on it in greedy gulps as he sank into her over and over, slamming her into the hard metal of the Impala with every thrust of his hips. Her moans eventually subsided and he heard her breathe something at him but couldn't think past his insatiable hunger and lust for her words to register right away. His fingers dug deeper into her thighs and he lifted her higher to get a better angle, groaning as he bit into her exposed neck at the increased friction.

He felt her needy grip on his back suddenly relax and her hands slip down to her sides. His hips never slowing in their momentum, he glanced up to see her head tip back on the roof of the car and her lids flutter and close over her soft, brown eyes. It was then the words she had whispered finally registered.

" _Dean...please...stop."_

Panic struck him and a strangled noise escaped his throat. He fought to get control over himself, to stop his savage thrusting into her but the overwhelming urge to continue was near impossible to conquer. _Succubus_ , he reminded himself. _Succubus_! If he came while touching Tasha, she would die. That feeling, that power he was so greedily soaking up from her, would flow into him and leave her drained and lifeless.

It was that thought that gave him the willpower to pull his hips back, popping out of her with an obscene sound. He tilted his head forward and closed his eyes, trying to take control of his body and force the urges down. Her legs slipped off his hips and dangled limply on either side of him. The only part of his skin touching her was his hands, which were still gripping her hips and pinning her up against the doorframe of the Impala.

"Tash," he choked out, his fear for her battling for dominance over his escalated and unfulfilled lust. She didn't respond and he knew instinctively he had taken too much from her. "Tash?" He pulled her forward and scooped her up, walking quickly to the closest table and laying her down unceremoniously on top of Bobby's scattered tools. He took a quick step back, breathing heavily but feeling instant relief at the loss of skin contact.

His eyes searched for movement, for some sign she was okay or at least _alive_. _Please please please_ , he repeated under his breath, not daring to move any closer. He felt a surge of relief sweep through him when her chest rose with breath; it was ever so slight but she was definitely alive.

Guilt tore at his insides as he stood there, staring in horror at what he had done.

_Fuck, he was a monster._ **Literally** _._

He knew he had to get out of here, to get away from her, and fast. He took a hesitant step forward and reached for the hem of the shirt she was wearing, gingerly tugging it down past her hips for the sake of decency. He avoided skin contact but had to step back quickly again when he felt a sudden resurgence of desire.

He closed his eyes and clenched his fists at his sides for a moment before finally getting a handle on the succubus-driven lust flowing through him. He tucked his abandoned, aching hard-on into his pants and left Tasha there, stumbling into the Impala and once again tearing out of Bobby's yard.

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**


	11. Losing Ground

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

Sam rolled over and flopped down onto his back on the bed, his breath heavy and a sheen of sweat glistening on his chest in the dim light. He closed his eyes and his lips curled up in a satisfied smile. _Damn, he should have done that ages ago._

He was going to wait until he caught his breath before leaving but when a slim arm slid over him and a head of blonde hair wriggled its way into the crook of his arm, he quickly changed his mind. He picked the arm off him and sat up, dropping his feet to the floor. He ignored the playful protest from behind him and reached for his jeans on the floor.

Jo pushed herself up onto her elbows, her jaw dropping in realization. "What are...? You're _leaving?"_

Sam shrugged. "Don't want your mom to find out," he lied.

"Well she's not gonna be showing up in my room in the next five minutes!" There was definitely anger behind the sarcasm.

Sam grimaced, wondering what the easiest way to deal with this was. "Look, Jo," he said as he hauled his jeans up past his hips. "What did you think was going on here?"

He didn't miss the hurt look in her eyes but knew she would cover it with bravado in three...two...one...

"Nothing, of course," she said hastily, pulling the sheet up to cover her bare chest and giving him a transparently contrived toss of the head. "I know what this is. Two grown ups... uh...consenting adults...all that."

"Exactly," he nodded, faking a smile as he pulled his t-shirt on over his head. "We should do it again sometime," he added, raising a suggestive eyebrow at her. "You are definitely worth a repeat performance."

He could see her gritting her teeth as she returned his smile. "Don't hold your breath."

He rolled his eyes as he leaned over to tie his shoes. "You're not pissed at me, are you?"

"Course not." She rolled over with a huff, turning her back to him and pulling the sheet up to her neck. "See you in the morning."

Sam simply finished tying his shoes and left the room. He closed the door softly behind him feeling pleased with himself and thinking that had gone pretty well. Jo was athletic and eager to please, both of which made for an excellent lay. He would definitely be tapping that again.

He was near the end of the second floor hall when he heard the faint sound of an engine and glanced outside the back window to see the Impala's taillights disappearing up Bobby's driveway. "Crap," he hissed, turning immediately toward the stairs.

Had Dean been here? Had he missed his best chance at finding an Alpha because he had been busy getting laid? He spared a few seconds of thought wondering which he would choose if he could do it over again but let his musings drop when he got to the back door. He pushed it open and stepped out into the garage.

Nobody there. Damnit! Dean must have come and gone. But why would his brother have shown up here in the first place? On an optimistic note, if Samuel had cured him, he wouldn't have taken off again so chances were he was still infected. And if he had fully turned, he probably wouldn't have come back in the first place. So there was still a chance Sam's plan could work.

Sam was about to go back inside and grab the Challenger's car keys to follow Dean when his eyes fell upon Tasha. He hadn't noticed her at first with just a pale hint of moonlight peering into the open-sided garage but saw her now lying motionless on the tool table at the far side of the space. Curious, Sam closed the gap between them until he was standing next to the table.

She was just wearing one of Dean's shirts and it was barely covering her torso, riding up to the tops of her thighs with a couple too many buttons undone at the top. She was completely still and Sam began to hope Dean might have finished the deed after all. Reaching for her neck to check for a pulse, however, he noticed her chest rise, proof she was still alive. He started to withdraw his hand but stopped, instead lowering it to trace a finger down the vee of her neck to her exposed cleavage. Licking his bottom lip, he started to pull the flannel aside slowly but was interrupted by a shuffling sound behind him.

Retracting his hand quickly he spun to see Bobby, whose mouth dropped open in horror when his eyes fell on Tasha on the table behind Sam.

"Balls!" the older man gasped. "Is she dead?"

Sam shook his head but Bobby was at his side in four long steps, his fingers pressing into the girl's neck and his face pale with fear. "Oh, Dean," he gulped, his voice just a whisper.

"She's alive," Sam assured him. "She's just out."

Bobby confirmed that fact for himself before pulling his arm back. "Damnit," he cursed, rubbing a worried hand through his beard. "He must be further than I thought..."

Sam feigned confusion. "Further what? What's going on, Bobby? You think Dean did this?"

The older man didn't answer but walked back to the house door and reached inside, his hand reappearing an instant later with a shotgun in its grasp. He cocked it loudly and aimed it right at Sam. "Don't give me that bullshit, son. You know exactly what's wrong with Dean, seein' as you're the one who let it happen."

The younger hunter raised his hands in feinged alarm. "Whoa, Bobby! What the Hell?"

"Crowley had video surveillance," Bobby spat, using the barrel of the gun to motion Sam away from the table. "You knew that was a succubus that bit Dean and you _let_   it happen!"

Sam's mouth opened to argue but he reconsidered and clamped it shut before any sound came out. He exhaled loudly and his shoulders slumped.

_Crap. He was found out._

_Oh well, whatever._

"Really Bobby?" he sneered, gesturing towards the shotgun aimed at his chest. "You gonna shoot me?"

"Don't test me, boy. You ain't Sam."

"Course I am; you did all the tests yourself."

"Well, I musta missed somethin' coz Sam wouldn't feed his brother to a succubus."

"What?" came a deep, gravelly voice full of alarm from the doorway behind Bobby. "What's going on?"

Bobby didn't take his eyes off his target to answer. "Seems Sam here came back from Purgatory wrong," he informed the newcomer. "He deliberately set Dean up to be bitten by a succubus."

"A succubus?" Cas repeated, eyes wide as he spun to face Sam. "Dean's been bitten by a succubus? How could..." His question faltered when his eyes fell instead on Tasha still lying on the tool table. "Tash!" he cried, rushing forward.

"She's alive," Bobby assured him hastily. Sam debated using the distraction as an opportunity to jump the older hunter but before he could take a single step forward, Bobby lifted the shotgun higher and narrowed his eyes in warning.

 _Shrewd bastard_ , Sam thought ruefully. _A guy that old shouldn't be that good._

"Dean hasn't turned yet," Bobby explained to Cas. "Samuel gave him a list of ingredients for a cure."

Cas just nodded as he took it all in. "Dean must have fed from her," he observed, lifting the brunette's eyelids to peer at her pupils. "But he didn't finish. He didn't drain her completely." He turned suddenly to glower at Sam. "Am I to understand you are responsible for Dean's condition?"

"Look, I can explain," Sam fought the urge to roll his eyes in his impatience. "I wasn't going to ..."

He was cut off when Cas's fist slammed into his face, twisting his face sideways and knocking him a step backwards. He recovered and brought his finger to his lip, dabbing at the streak of blood already dripping down the side of his chin. He grinned and gave the smaller man an approving nod.

"Wow," he smirked approvingly. "That was actually a good hit. Maybe you're not as useless as I thought. Tell me Cas, you pissed about Dean or Tash?"

Cas narrowed his eyes, his fist still clenched at his side. "What are you implying?"

Sam snorted but Bobby interrupted before the cold-hearted thing that looked like Sam could instigate a full-on fight that could end up in Cas being hurt and-or Bobby losing the advantage of having the gun. "You keep your trap shut, whatever you are!" he snapped, waving the shotgun at Sam before addressing Cas. "Okay, Mike Tyson in a trench coat, you need to get a hold of your pal upstairs because we need to find out what's driving the Sammy-train."

There was a brief silence while Cas deciphered the Bobby-speak and figured out he was being told to contact Balthazar. "Oh. Yes, well he did not reply the last time I tried," he admitted, "but I have been working on another summoning ritual that will be more likely to get his attention."

Bobby nodded, jutting his chin towards Tasha. "Bring her inside," he told Cas. "I'll meet you in the panic room." As Cas moved to do as he was told, Bobby ordered Sam to walk ahead of him into the house with his arms in the air.

Sam gave his pseudo-father a cold look but obeyed, spouting lies all the way down the stairs in an attempt to lessen the obvious ill intent of his plan. He insisted he had no intention of letting Dean turn fully and tried to make Bobby see how this plan could still end in them bagging an Alpha. Dean had soaked up a lot of energy from Tasha so he had to be feeling the succubus in him strongly now. Maybe he could even sense the Alpha already.

"All we have to do is find him," he finished as he stepped into the panic room, wishing the older hunter would come a little closer so he could take him out. "We're wasting time here. He _just_   left so if we go after him right now..."

He was cut off by the loud clang of the panic room door slamming shut.

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

Bobby was acutely aware of the pair of cold, hazel eyes watching him through the slot in the iron door as he came back down the stairs with the charm Cas had asked for. Cas was busy painting an intricate set of symbols on the basement floor but stood up as the hunter approached. Jo was already in the basement, standing quietly behind the ex-angel with her arms folded across her chest.

"This gonna work?" Bobby asked with scepticism, not missing the effort Jo was making to keep her back to the door of the panic room.

Cas shrugged, taking the charm. "Balthazar can be...difficult. I am sure he heard my previous summonings but since I can no longer contact him directly as an angel, he does not recognize it as me and would simply have ignored it. He will not be able to ignore this." An apprehensive crease formed in his forehead. "In fact, he will not be pleased."

"Yeah well, we need any help we can get right now," Bobby grumbled.

Ellen finally came down the stairs to join them, having stayed with Tasha in the living room until she was convinced the young brunette would be fine. Both Harvelles had heard Sam yelling and pounding on the panic room door after he had been locked inside and had come downstairs right away assuming the younger Winchester had relapsed and been caught drinking demon blood again. Cas had put Tasha on the couch and covered her with a blanket while Bobby had filled the women in on what had happened to her and that there was something wrong with Sam. As he spoke, Bobby had wondered about Jo's sickened look and her stream of questions about whether Sam was human or not. He hoped to God the boy hadn't crossed the line with the youngest Harvelle or Ellen would surely cut his nuts off and dispose of them in the neighbor's woodchipper. Quite literally.

"Okay, I'm ready," Cas announced. "Stand back."

"Go for it," Bobby said with a nod, moving to the edge of the room with Ellen and Jo behind him.

"I think you're making a mistake," Sam warned them through the hole in the door. "We can't trust angels, remember?"

"You're the one we can't trust," Cas replied evenly. He waved his hand over the bowl on the floor before grimacing and retracting it sheepishly. Bobby hid his smile as he handed the ex-angel his lighter. Cas used it to light the substance in the bowl and started chanted in Enokian.

Two minutes later there was a man in a suit standing with them in the basement. Well, not really a suit. He wore a black blazer and slacks but in lieu if the traditional shirt and tie, he was sporting a very low-cut V-neck.

"Who the HELL do you think you're..." He stopped talking and narrowed his eyes at Cas. "Wait, I've seen you before. You're..."

"Castiel," Cas answered.

"No, no you're definitely not him but yes, that's where I've seen you before. You were his latest vessel." He looked around the room at Ellen, Jo and Bobby, his expression disapproving. "Taken up with hunters, have you?"

"No, Balthazar, it's me, Castiel."

The angel gave him a disbelieving, impatient look.

"I've lost my grace."

Balthazar's eyes widened in shock and realization. "Castiel? Cas Ol' Buddy?"

Cas nodded. For centuries he had been annoyed by the shortened nickname Balthazar insisted on using with him, its intention to tease and provoke. Then one day Dean had used it and since then, for some reason, Cas didn't mind it. In fact, he rather enjoyed it. It was no longer being used to mock but was instead a sign of familiarity and friendship. None of his human friends ever called him Castiel anymore.

"How did this happen?" Balthazar asked, his normal flamboyant personality subdued by the grave news.

Cas was actually touched at his old friend's seemingly genuine concern. He knew it wouldn't last past his shock but it was real all the same. "I went through a gate into Purgatory and when I came back, it was gone," he informed the newcomer bluntly.

Balthazar stared at him for a long moment, the usual mischievous sparkle in his eyes dulled and his expression serious. "Well, there's no getting it back then," he said finally.

"I am aware of that," Cas conceded quietly. "But that's not why I called you here."

"Oh? What else could possibly be bothering you?"

Cas nodded towards the pair of hazel eyes still peering out the slot in the iron door. "Sam Winchester was thrown into Purgatory with me," he explained. "And he has not come back ... right. I need to know what's wrong with him."

"And since you can't get it up anymore..." the angel figured out why he had been brought here. He shrugged. "Fine, I'll do it." A familiar grin spread across his face. "Anything for you Cas Ol' Buddy."

A wave of his hand unlocked and swung the panic room door wide open. Sam backed away from them, his expression wary as the unknown angel approached. Balthazar walked right up to him and pressed the heel of his hand against the hunter's forehead. There was a light glow around his fingers but Sam didn't move away – couldn't as a matter of fact.

Balthazar retracted his hand and frowned. "Nothing wrong with him...wait...I wonder." He gripped Sam by the shoulder with one hand while the other shot forward and sank right _into_   the hunter's chest.

"Whoa! What...?" Bobby cried alarmed when Sam screamed. He may not be quite right but that was still his Sam, that was still his boy.

Cas held out an arm to block the 'father-bear' from interfering. "No, wait. He will not hurt Sam." Sam kept screaming, a bright light glowing around where Balthazar's arm disappeared into his chest. "Permanently anyway," Cas added with a wince.

"What is he doing?" Jo shouted, fidgeting as if she, too was about to jump between the angel and Sam. Everyone was now standing in the small panic room, staring wild-eyed at the angel-style diagnosis going on.

Balthazar withdrew his arm at that moment and Sam dropped to his knees, clutching his chest and gasping.

"His soul is gone," the angel announced turning to look directly at Cas. "Probably screaming for mercy right alongside your grace."

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

Balthazar didn't stick around very long after dropping the bomb. He filled Cas in what was happening in Heaven, explaining that Michael and Raphael were still in charge and were 'miffed beyond words' at both Cas and the Winchesters but were too busy trying to figure out a way to restart the Apocalypse to bother seeking retribution. So far, that was a no-go. The only other good news was that Zachariah had been demoted and disgraced for not being able to control two human brothers and a lowly Angel of Thursday and had since gone AWOL with his head hung in shame. Cas began to tell his old friend what was going on with Crowley and Purgatory but Balthazar held up his hand to stop him.

"Come now, brother," he smirked. "When have I ever cared about politics? I'm keeping my nose clean and off the upper echelon's radar." He winked. "I can have a lot more fun that way. I don't want to know ."

And with that he disappeared.

There was a long silence in the panic room, broken only by Sam's grunts and heavy breathing as he struggled to rise from his knees, clutching his chest in obvious pain. Ellen raised her shotgun and stepped in front of the door, pumping a round into the chamber as a warning to the recovering hunter.

"What does that mean, ' _his soul is gone'_?" Bobby demanded of Cas, his voice wrought with worry.

Cas gave him a remorseful look. "I'm not sure exactly what it means, but it is not good."

"Is he still Sam?" Jo asked, eyeing the large hunter warily but again addressing Cas.

Cas shrugged. "That is a question beyond my understanding," he replied. "He would still have all of Sam's knowledge and memories but he lacks his feelings."

"Are you sayin' he don't feel?" Bobby frowned. "As in he's got no emotions?"

"But he does," Jo argued quickly. "He has emotions. Even since Purgatory; he still gets angry and he's cocky now - that's like pride, righ? - and he laughs..."

"Sam still has emotions," Cas said slowly. "Angels don't have souls yet they still feel emotions. They are just easier to set aside and don't control our actions. Like us, Sam will still have faint emotions but he lacks the guidance our Faith in God gives us ... I mean gives _angels_ ," he corrected. "He lacks that higher conscience."

Bobby snorted. "Angels ain't got no ' _higher_ _conscience'_ ;" he said snidely. "They got righteousness and arrogance and a lot of practice on how to be dicks." He sighed and looked back to Sam, who was watching them all analyzing him with curiosity. "So with no conscience," Bobby continued, "he's got no empathy or sympathy or... love."

"That would be my guess," Cas confirmed. "He lacks concern for anything that does not benefit him directly or make him feel good physically."

Bobby noticed the flicker of shame that crossed Jo's face at Cas's last comment and was thankful her mother was standing behind her, covering the door. Girl needed to work on her poker face.

Cas kept talking. "Simply put, Sam just doesn't care. He's not evil; he's just not good either. Like angels, he seems to have a sense of purpose, but instead of divine orders, his purpose is to hunt." His brow furrowed in thought as he tuned to face the quiet subject of their debate. "This is good and bad."

"It's good he wants to kill monsters…" Ellen ventured, still holding the gun.

Bobby finished the sentence for her. "But bad he doesn't care who he hurts or how he does it."

Cas nodded. "That is why he was willing to let his own brother be turned onto a succubus and kill Tasha in the process - all for a lead on an Alpha."

Ellen and Jo both gasped, not having heard the detail about Sam's role in Dean's situation yet.

Bobby frowned at Cas and his big mouth. He hadn't intended to divulge that part to the women. "Try to keep that tidbit from the gal upstairs when she wakes up," he told the Harvelles quickly, who both nodded in immediate understanding.

Sam rolled his eyes and finally joined the conversation. "I care about Dean," he told them, not vey convincingly. "He's still my brother."

"Cut the bullshit," Bobby growled. "You've been made."

"Fine," Sam raised his hands in defeat. "I _don't_   really care. But I do want to find Dean safe and sound before we lose him completely." When nobody said anything Sam continued his argument. "I knew Samuel would have a cure," he lied. "But we need to quit wasting time here and find Dean. After what he did to Tasha, he's gotta be so far gone by now he's _sure_   to be able to tune in to the Alpha. If we get the Alpha, we could potentially kill every succubus in one shot." He looked around the small room at the dumbfounded faces staring at him. "How awesome would that be?" he grinned.

"Son, you're all kinds of creepy," Bobby said, his stomach churning. "But you're right about finding Dean." He began to usher Cas and the women out of the small room. "You're staying in here though. We'll find him without you."

Sam began to argue but Ellen raised the shotgun and gave him a hard stare that made him back down. She was the last out of the door and Bobby slammed it shut and locked it as soon as she had stepped over the threshold into the basement.

They all moved upstairs, discussing what their next move should be. Bobby suggested Ellen and Jo stay with Tasha and keep an eye on Sam while he and Cas go chasing after Dean. The older hunter had given him directions on how to find the rarer ingredients in Samuel's cure so they could only hope Dean was still human enough to be trying to track them down. They could intercept him, find the ingredients themselves, cure him and bring him back within a few days.

Bobby ordered Jo upstairs to Dean and Tasha's room to check for Ruby's knife. After she had been kidnapped and held hostage, Dean would most likely have insisted Tasha keep it close, especially since a knife was her weapon of choice and it was probably at its most lethal while in her hands. Then he went downstairs to gather what he thought he might need from the basement.

Cas pulled his angel-dagger out of its hiding spot behind a removable piece of millwork in Bobby's kitchen and headed towards the door, anxious to get going and figuring he'd just wait in the car. He glanced back at Ellen, who was leaning over the still-unconscious brunette on the couch. Ellen looked up in time to catch his gaze and gave him a warm smile. "She'll be fine," she reassured him. "Just bring Dean back."

Cas nodded in reply as he opened the door to exit. He didn't even get over the threshold before the heel of a hand landed in the center of his chest and he went flying backwards, skidding across the floor and crashing into the wooden side table.

He heard Ellen cry his name and by the time he gathered his tangled limbs enough to push himself onto his knees, he saw two men barging into the living room. Ellen confronted them with a shotgun in hand, blasting two salt rounds in rapid succession into the gut of the first one.

Cas scrambled to his feet and drew the angel dagger back out from the inside pocket of his trench coat, not entirely sure if it would work on a demon without his angel-mojo behind it. Nevertheless he charged forward, his determination and worry fueled by the sight of Ellen being struck hard and slamming into the wall. He ran up behind the demon who had hit her and swept the blade in a fast, downward arc but the demon was faster. It spun and knocked the weapon out of Cas's hands, following up with a hard punch that ended with Cas on the floor.

With a flicker of resentment that thousands of years of extraordinary celestial existence was going to end at the hands of a lowly demon, Cas moved to get his feet under him. He really didn't expect to be allowed to do so before the demon attacked him again but the anticipated blow never came. The demon was standing over him giving him a curious look.

"Hey George," he said to the other demon who had just planted a solid kick in Ellen's gut. "This is him. This is the angel."

George came over quickly, leaving the elder Harvelle gasping on the floor to stand beside his partner and stare down at Cas. "You sure?" he didn't look convinced. "That's a human."

Cas made it to his feet and swung a fist at the closest demon's face. It impacted but had little effect and he was rewarded with a punch to the gut that once again had him hitting the floor. He suddenly understood Dean's tendency to swear in such situations.

"I know it's human," the demon continued, a smile spreading over his face. "It's an empty vessel. The boss is gonna _love_   this."

The second demon laughed. "Yep; without their angel, the Winchesters are as good as dead. Now if we can find them then we get to be the ones..."

He didn't finish his sentence for his face lit up and orange lights shot out of his eyes and mouth. He slumped to the floor to reveal Jo standing behind him with both hands wrapped around the hilt of Ruby's knife, the blade covered in blood. The blonde immediately turned to face off against the second demon but her first stab missed when he took a quick step sideways. He swung a fist at her that sailed over her head as she ducked and Cas kicked out at the demon's feet in an effort to help her.

The ex-angel's efforts resulted in Jo getting a deep slash in the demon's arm but it wasn't enough to take him out. In his fury he shoved her hard across the room and into the far wall next to her still-recovering mother. Cas kicked the demon in his knee and pushed himself up only to get another fist in the face. Things were not looking good for the hunters when Bobby was suddenly in the room, blasting salt rounds into the demon's chest.

When the shotgun clicked empty, Jo called Bobby's name and tossed him Ruby's knife and the demon looked around warily. Cas and Jo were both back on their feet and they moved to flank the older hunter, slowly backing the demon into the corner. The demon glared at them before tilting his head upwards. A stream of angry black smoke soared out of his mouth and flew straight at them. The demon's vacated meatsuit fell to the floor, unmistakeably dead. Bobby and Jo threw a protective arm up in reaction but the smoke veered right and spun straight towards Cas, forcing its way turbulently down his throat.

"Oh balls," Bobby mumbled, stepping away from Cas and urging Jo away also, his arm extended in front of her. _Crap, he should have given the angel an anti-possession charm the moment he became human._

Cas's expression went cold and his blue eyes flitted black as he straightened his posture and turned to face Bobby and Jo.

Bobby waved the knife in front of him but possessed Cas just laughed. "You gonna stab me, old man?" he taunted. "You gonna stab your innocent pal here?"

"Don't tempt me," the hunter grumbled.

"Nice bluff," the demon snorted and lunged, knocking the knife out of Bobby's hand and sending him careening into the coffee table. Jo threw a punch that was absorbed without so much as a flinch and Cas wrapped his hand around her neck. He lifted her feet off the floor and snarled at her. "I'm gonna enjoy snapping your little neck, sweetcheeks..."

He didn't get to finish for he was suddenly hurtled sideways when a large body threw itself at him. Jo dropped to the floor gasping as the tangle of limbs rolled on the floor next to her, fists and feet flying.

Bobby ignored the pain shooting through practically every part of his body as he straightened to see Sam and Cas wrestling in the middle of the floor. Sam was taking a few hard hits but instead of swinging back he was tugging at the lapels of the demon's trench coat. Finally he wrapped his feet around Cas's waist and yanked him sideways into a roll, toppling him over and Bobby grinned.

Sam scrambled out from under the demon and pushed himself to his feet, panting heavily. He took a couple of steps backwards and smirked when the demon possessing Cas bumped into an invisible wall as he tried to follow. The demon looked upwards and snarled when he saw the giant devil's trap painted right above him on Bobby's ceiling.

"Motherfucker," Cas swore and Bobby couldn't help but think the curse words sounded strange on the ex-angel's lips.

Sam caught his breath after the violent scuffle with the demon possessing Cas and stooped to pick up Ruby's knife.

"No wait!" Jo called out to him in alarm.

Sam gave her an impatient glare. "I'm not gonna kill Cas," he snapped. "I just saved his ass." He looked over to Bobby, who was kneeling on the floor next to a wincing Ellen, his rough mechanic's hands cupping her face tenderly. "And yours," Sam added, thinking that Dean owed him twenty bucks because from what he was seeing, Bobby was definitely tapping that.

Cas laughed. It was an all-out loud, hearty laugh but with a sinister edge and it sounded so strange coming out of the normally somber ex-angel.

Bobby helped Ellen to her feet. "Can't see why yer laughin' in your position," he sneered at the demon.

"Are you kidding me? What's _not_   funny about this situation?" the demon snickered. "I'm looking at four dead men. Nope, make that five because this guy," he flicked Cas's trench coat lapels, "Is dead too. As soon as you exorcize me, I'm gonna tell Crowley you don't have your angel pitbull and you are all as good as dead."

Sam curled his lip. "In that case, maybe we will just kill you then," he threatened, waving the knife.

"You put that knife away, son," Ellen rasped, leaning heavily on Bobby. There was a drying crust of blood on her temple and she held an arm tightly across her ribcage. "You ain't touching Cas with that."

Sam groaned in impatient annoyance. "Why are you all so convinced I'm ready to kill Cas just to gank one lowly demon?" he huffed. "I just saved all of you. I'm not as far gone as you think. I don't want _any_   of you to get hurt. I was bluffing."

That was, in fact, the truth. He had no intention of killing Cas. The rest of them, he really couldn't care less about. He didn't want them dead but he wouldn't have risked his life tackling a demon bare-handed to save them. Cas, on the other hand, was a valuable asset for any hunter. Even though he had lost his angel strength and powers, he still had tens of thousands of years of knowledge that would be irreplaceable if lost. The wealth of information he held could come in very handy in trying to take down Alphas.

"How'd you get out of the panic room?" Bobby narrowed his eyes at the young hunter.

Sam shrugged. "The cot, a sheet, and the ventilation fan." He turned back towards Cas. "Which Alphas has Crowley managed to get his hands on so far?" he demanded.

Jo interrupted his Q&A. "What are you doing here?" she asked the demon, clearly not finding Sam's question at the top of the 'must know' list. "I thought Sam and Dean were on the hands-off list."

Cas snorted. "Why, because Old Campbell keeps whining about family? Crowley doesn't take orders from anyone. You Winchesters crossed the line so you're on the hit list and trust me, once you're on that list, you won't last long." He looked around the room. "So where's Dean?"

Nobody answered his question. "What the hell happened to your voice?" Jo asked curiously and Bobby couldn't help but snicker at her cheeky observation. Cas's deep, throaty voice did sound higher and a lot more nasally coming out of the demon. He felt a sudden and surprising swell of pride for the petite blonde. She was fearless and had as much attitude as Dean, not to mention had handled herself very well in the fight. True makings of a good hunter.

The demon ignored the comment. "So, tell me," he retorted, "How does it feel to know your pathetic sentimentality for this empty vessel here is going to get you killed?"

Bobby growled, passing Ellen off to lean on Jo instead. "Go ahead and tell Crowley you son of a bitch, but get out of our friend." With that he started reciting a Latin exorcism. Everyone stood back and watched as the demon lurched and snarled before the jet of black smoke came streaming out and disappeared into the devil's trap above it. Cas fell to his knees on the floor and Bobby moved forward to help him to his feet.

"So how long do you think we have until Crowley's reinforcements get here?" Sam asked calmly.

Bobby gave him an apprehensive look.

Sam frowned. "Don't even think about turning on me again. I could have just taken off but I came in here instead and risked my life to save yours!"

There was a brief silence as the four of them stared at Sam and debated the next move.

"He did save our asses," Jo pointed out.

"We can't leave him here," Cas added, breathing heavily. "He would be a ... a sitting duck, even in the panic room. We must leave right away before Crowley's demons show up."

Sam nodded his agreement. "And we still have to find Dean," he pointed out. "And who knows Dean better than me? I can find him even if he doesn't want to be found."

"How long do you think we have before we got company?" Bobby asked Cas.

Cas shrugged. "We sent that demon to hell. Crowley is the King of Hell. I'm sure he already knows I am no longer an angel and you are all vulnerable."

"Fine," Bobby said, though he wasn't at all convinced they could trust Sam. "You come with us but I got my eye on you, boy." He turned to Ellen and Jo. "We go right now. Jo, take yer mother in your Jeep."

Jo nodded and headed out the front door.

"Tash," Cas said simply and headed towards the living room to get her.

Suddenly alone, Bobby stood and stared hard at Sam for a moment and his gaze was returned with equal fortitude. He was about to issue another warning not to betray them when there came a cry from the front porch.

"Bobby! They're here already!" Jo cried.

Sam sprang into action. He tossed the older hunter the demon-killing knife. "Go!" he ordered, pointing to the front door. "Get them out of here. I'll get Cas and Tasha and we'll meet you at the old mill."

A million thoughts raced through Bobby's mind in the split second that followed. He wanted to dash out to the porch to make sure Ellen and Jo were okay but he didn't want to leave Cas and Tasha at the mercy of the demons with only a questionably-motivated Sam to help. The man looking at him right now certainly _looked_   like Sam but...

A shotgun blast on the porch made up his mind for him and he nodded. "You better make it to the mill," he told Sam, hoping like hell there was still some of the boy he loved and trusted in there. "All three of you."

With that he turned and ran outside.

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**


	12. Circling the Drain

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

Tasha awoke to the deep rumble of her own car, opening her eyes to see that she was on the back seat, wrapped in what appeared to be Cas's trench coat. She tried to push it off but discovered two things that made her reconsider. First, she was groggy and extremely weak, finding it took a great amount of effort just to lift her arm. Second, she didn't seem to be wearing anything but one of Dean's shirts. She reluctantly left the coat in place and turned her head to see who was in the car with her, trying to remember what had happened and how she had ended up here, half-naked and spent.

Sam was driving. She squinted and tilted her chin up to see the back of Cas's head in the passenger seat. _Where was Dean?_   That's right - she remembered Ellen saying he had taken off in the Impala and he had later texted to let her know he would be gone a day or two.

"Sam?" she croaked, her attempt to sit up not giving her the desired results.

Sam and Cas both glanced quickly over their shoulders.

"Tash," Cas greeted her with a look of immense relief. "How do you feel?"

"Told you she'd wake up eventually," Sam said simply, turning back to watch the road.

"I feel like crap," she answered Cas's question honestly. "What's going on?" Last she remembered, it was dark and she was going to bed alone for Dean hadn't come back yet but now the sun was high in the sky, streaming in the car windows. "What happened? How long have I been out?"

"Almost two days," Cas answered her gently, his voice full of concern.

"Two days!" Tasha tried to sit up in alarm but failed once more and lay back down with a frustrated growl. "What happened?" she simply repeated.

Cas pursed his lips, still twisted in his seat to face her. "I'm afraid there has been an unfortunate turn of events," he began.

"Dean got infected by a succubus and he fucked you and drained your life energy," Sam finished off bluntly, not bothering to turn around.

Tasha remained silent, trying to process what Sam had just said.

"He didn't finish though or you'd be dead," Sam continued. "Which means he hasn't fully turned yet. Samuel gave him a cure but it's got some ingredients that are tricky to get and Dean's out there trying to find these things and we're trying to intercept him before he fucks someone else and turns into a full-fledged succubus."

Cas was glaring at Sam.

"What?" Sam shrugged innocently. "You were planning on telling her, weren't you?"

"Some tact would have been prudent."

The tall Winchester snorted. "That is hilarious coming from you, of all people," he said snidely.

Cas turned back to peer over the seat. "We almost caught up with Dean in Wyoming but he evaded us and got the Ambrosia stalk first so now we're trying to get to Delaware and to the next ingredient before him," Cas told her.

"Evaded us?" Sam snorted again. "Evaded _you_. If you had trusted me to take the back alley by myself, I would have caught him."

Tasha's mind was reeling with the shocking news and she ignored the bickering going on in the front of the car. A vague recollection came to mind of Dean in the garage, holding her up against the Impala, driving into her over and over - roughly. She remembered being so drowned in lust she had wanted him more than ever before and she remembered him taking her hard, relentlessly… painfully even. Hurting her. Draining her.

"I'm afraid there's more bad news," Cas was saying but his words seemed distant. Her stomach was in her throat at the memory and worry for Dean and she felt herself being pulled back into sleep by overwhelming weariness. She strained to listen to Cas as he kept talking. "I'm afraid Sam's soul has also been left in Purgatory," he said.

"Sam?" she managed, her forehead creasing in new worry for the younger of the Winchesters. She didn't love Sam like she did Dean but he had made his way inside her carefully constructed walls and he was a close second. He was like family, Dean's little brother…

The last thing she heard before sleep finally claimed her again was a confusing statement from Cas.

"Sam is not to be trusted."

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

When she next awoke, they were two hours out of Delaware. Cas convinced Sam to pull over long enough for her to get some clothes out of the trunk and pick up something to eat. She could understand Sam's reluctance; after all his brother's life was at stake and every second could count, but she didn't understand the obvious tension between the ex-angel and the younger Winchester until Cas filled her in on his interpretations of what it meant for Sam to have lost his soul. Sam insisted he was still the same Sam she knew and upon hearing the tale of the group's escape from Bobby's house after Crowley's minions started showing up, Tasha was inclined to believe him. Apparently, he had charged back into the house and faced off against two demons so Cas could carry her to the car safely. People who didn't care didn't risk their lives for others. She trusted Sam. She was aware that Dean trusted Cas also but she didn't know the ex-angel like she knew Sam. Unless Sam did something to indicate otherwise, she was going to keep trusting him. Warily, maybe, but she would at least give him the benefit of the doubt.

Cas informed Tasha that with how much Dean had taken from her, the succubus influence within him had no doubt grown far stronger and he was no longer in his right mind. This would account for why he had deliberately avoided them in Wyoming. He pointed out that it was a good sign that Dean was still searching out the ingredients for the cure though, as this indicated the hunter was still in control enough to make an effort to resist the succubus urges and that he still wanted to avoid turning.

As if Dean's state wasn't disturbing enough news, Sam admitted he no longer needed to sleep. In fact, he had been behind the wheel of her car for the better part of two days since Cas did not yet know how to drive. In the other vehicle, Bobby, Ellen, and Jo had been taking turns driving and sleeping. Bobby was fairly certain with how far gone Dean was at this point, he would not be feeling much need to sleep either, so they couldn't afford to take any time out to rest up.

Tasha closed her eyes as she slumped in the back seat, her half-eaten sandwich feeling like lead in the pit of her stomach. _Neither Winchester sleeping? This was so not good._

There was a vendor of supernatural goods in a tiny back room of a tiny corner store in Delaware. Bobby had told Dean this vendor would have the rare spider venom required in the cure Samuel Campbell had provided. Sam had been sure his brother would remember the store since they had come here with their dad when they were kids and had spent a week hanging around the boardwalk, killing time while John waited for some special order weapon to come in. Bobby had called ahead and warned the store owner to stall if Dean showed up.

When they arrived, it was after nine o'clock at night and front store was closed. Still weak, Tasha stayed in the car while Bobby led the rest of the group around to the hunter's entrance at the back. Inside, they found a very angry-looking man rubbing a nasty-looking fresh bruise covering most of his left cheek.

"Balls," Bobby groused, ordering the others to hang back while he dug the story out of the man. A guy fitting Dean's description had come in less than half an hour ago looking for Red Ginter spider venom and had grown agitated when the dealer had claimed to be out of stock. Eventually, Dean had become belligerent and the dealer had pulled a rifle on him for his own protection, clearly underestimating Dean's skills. Within seconds, he was disarmed and knocked out cold with the butt of his own gun.

Bobby came back out and relayed the story to the others. "So we got one last shot at catching him," he informed them sombrely. "There's one more ingredient that's not commonplace and I know exactly where and when he'll go to get it."

Sam shook his head. "Nah," he said. "I know Dean. He still has to eat, right?"

Bobby nodded. "Far as I know."

"Well, I know exactly where he's going then." He looked almost smugly around at the group. "See, aren't you glad you brought me along?"

Tasha was the only one who acknowledged the soulless man's contribution and the gang headed down to the boardwalk to scope out the seaside shanty of a burger-joint that Dean had raved about to Sam for his entire teen years. This place had been ranked as number one on Dean's extensive list of ' _best places to eat_ ', a list that was most likely dreamt up, edited, and re-edited in an effort to pass the endless hours the pair had spent in the Impala and alone in seedy motels during their childhood. Tasha gave Sam a thankful look. She could love Dean with every piece of her heart but when it came down to it, nobody knew Dean like Sam did.

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

Dean swallowed the last mouthful of his double cheeseburger and tossed the wrapper in a trash can along the boardwalk. It had been a disappointing meal, not tasting anywhere near as good as what he remembered from that week the Winchesters had stayed here when he was eleven. But then again, it wasn't feeding the _real_   hunger within him. He walked back towards the Impala, trying to avoid eye contact and especially physical contact with anybody he passed and trying to _not_   think about ripping their clothes off and….

An image of doing just that to Tash two days ago flashed in his mind and snapped him rudely out of his train of thought. The overwhelming lust began to ebb once again, replaced by guilt and shame.

He fingered his phone in his pocket. He should call them. He should let them help him find these cure ingredients. He had spotted Bobby and Ellen in Wyoming and had slipped out the back and taken off, avoiding Sam, Cas, and Jo also. He wasn't even really sure why. He just reacted as if by instinct.

But he hadn't even seen Tash. Could he have killed her after all? No, if he had killed her, he would be a full-fledged succubus right now and, although the urges were damn near impossible to resist at times, he was still human.

A figure appeared abruptly in front of him and he stopped short, taking a quick step back to avoid bumping into them, his hand tightening around the duffle he was carrying with him just in case his family found the Impala and he had to make a quick getaway. He looked up sharply to see a pretty girl smiling at him. The length of her skirt and practically non-existent top made it clear she was a working girl.

"Want some company?" she said sweetly, reaching out to touch his chest.

"No, get awa…" He couldn't help but notice her soft, brown eyes, full lips, long dark hair…

"You look like her," he practically whispered, faltering in his retreat.

"Sugar, I can look like anyone you want for the right price…" Her hand ran up the front of his shirt and lightly grazed his bare neck. Dean felt an irresistible jolt of lust surge through him and watched as her eyes practically glazed over. Suddenly her hands were all over him, one stroking the front of his jeans with firm, pressing movements.

"Forget the price," her voice became breathy and desperate. "I'll do you for free. Oh, please let me fuck you. Let me blow you, baby. Want me to blow you?"

Dean tried to resist, he really did, but the pure need rising within him was uncontrollable. Her next words did him in.

"You wanna cum? I can make you cum, baby. Please let me make you cum."

He wanted to rip what little clothes she was wearing off and fuck her right there on the boardwalk but even in his lust-driven state, he knew there were too many people around. They would stop him before he could get what he wanted. And good God did he ever want it! Her hand was unbuttoning his jeans and he made a strangled noise as he clamped his hand around her wrist.

"Not here," he said, his voice low and tense with restraint. "My car's up on the street. Let's go there."

She shook her head, her hand still trying to work his jeans open while the other one rubbed needy circles on his chest up under his shirt. "Room six," she panted, tilting her head towards the rundown motel right behind them. "Closer."

They were stumbling through the motel room door less than ten seconds later, ripping clothes off and tossing them in every direction as they made their way clumsily to the bed. She was trying to touch every part of him she could, arching her chest into his for more contact and moaning loudly, but he had one single goal in mind. He pushed her down on her back and she spread her legs wide for him as he reached down to grasp his painfully throbbing hard-on and guide it in. He didn't bother working her open or starting slow, he just rammed his full length inside with one hard thrust, digging his fingers into her hips to pull her tighter around him. She cried out but the need in her voice rang clearer than the pain and her hips bucked up towards him.

He clenched his jaw as he pulled back out almost all the way and surged forward again. Then again and again. She was clawing at the bedspread beneath her and practically screaming and he picked up the pace even more, slamming into her mercilessly with deep, savage thrusts. He lifted her hips off the bed to better meet his angle and allow him to sink in deeper with every plunge. He kept going, pummelling into her faster and faster, egged on by her pleading cries for more. He closed his eyes, drinking in the lust flowing freely through him and enjoying every second of it. It was building like a volcano about to erupt and for the first time in his life, he wished he wasn't so damn good at this. He wished he was a one-minute man because he wanted to cum so badly it was driving him crazy. He wanted to cum right fucking now. He pounded her harder and harder, ignoring her screams and her ' _Yes! Fuck me! Fuck me!_ ' cries, concentrating on reaching that ultimate release.

The sound of skin slapping on skin grew louder and he glanced down, letting out a pleased groan at the sight of her large breasts bouncing up and down in time to his thrusts. It took a few seconds for it to register that her screams had stopped and her fists were no longer clenched in the fabric of the bedspread but instead lay limply at her sides. He knew enough to realize the euphoria flowing through him was being taken for her and was killing her but still, he didn't stop. He knew she was very near passed out at this point but still, he didn't stop. She was so warm and so wet and so much tighter than he would have expected a hooker to be. Most of all, she was feeding _that_   hunger, the insatiable one that had been plaguing him for days, gnawing at him from the inside out. Her walls were practically milking him and he knew just a few more strokes and he would get what he wanted, what every nerve ending his body was screaming out for.

Release. Orgasm. Fucking Heaven.

 _And Death_. He would kill her. He would become succubus and would never see Sam again. He would never see Tash again. He would break Bobby's heart all over again. He would abandon Cas in his time of need. He would never have those children he had fallen in love with.

But oh God, he wanted that release...

With a loud, animalistic growl and more willpower than he had ever needed to draw upon in his life, he pulled out and pushed her hips away from him. She dropped to the mattress, boneless and unconscious. He scrambled off the bed and ran to the bathroom, jerking himself off madly over the toilet and fighting the urge to go back and touch the prostitute as he came, taking what he so desperately wanted from her. A series of whimpering sounds were all that escaped him as he fought to gain control over his lust and emptied his seed harmlessly into the grime-stained bowl.

He remained where he was for a few minutes, his head bowed and his hand braced against the wall, catching his breath and his composure. Finally, he moved to the bathtub and turned on the tap. Maybe a cold shower would help.

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

The hunters scoured the boardwalk looking for Dean. The server at the burger joint had recognized the infected hunter from a picture on Jo's cell phone, saying he had been here less than an hour ago but hadn't seen which direction he had taken. They roamed in pairs, asking every person they saw but without much luck. Finally, Bobby and Sam struck paydirt when a blonde working girl admitted she had seen him with her friend 'Corazone' not that long ago. It took two hundred dollars and repeated assurances they weren't cops to get the information out of her, but she eventually told them her friend worked out of room six at the boardwalk motel.

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

Dean Winchester sat on the end of the bed in silent misery, elbows on his knees and his head hung low in shame. He stole a quick glance over his shoulder at the passed-out, dark-haired prostitute sprawled naked on the sheets behind him, fucked into oblivion. After taking a long, self-punishing drink from his half-empty bottle of Jack, he traced his finger back and forth over the trigger of the silver engraved .45 he held in his hand.

How did things get so screwed up? How had he gone from being the happiest he had ever been to _this_ in so short a time? How had things spiralled down so quickly? Just when he had found peace, everything had been torn apart.

His thoughts drifted to Sam. Looking out for the kid was his responsibility. Right or wrong, it just always had been, and he had failed miserably - _again_. His brother had died for him and had then fought so damn hard to get control over his demon-blood addiction, this time with no magical cure-all from God, only to be hit with something much worse. Life had thrown his little brother to the wolves yet again and right now, Dean wasn't fit to help him.

Then there was Cas. The angel had given up everything for the Winchesters and was now but a shell of his former self - a lost, empty husk looking to Dean for answers. Banished from Heaven and hunted by those he had betrayed, Dean knew his friend wouldn't last much longer; if some vengeful angel didn't kill him then some inner demon would.

And there was Tasha. _Oh fuck, Tasha_. He exhaled and closed his eyes. He had hurt her badly, come damn close to killing her. His hand involuntarily dug into his right pocket and pulled out a small piece of silver, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger, ignoring the slight burning sensation it was giving the succubus part of him. This was his fourth attempt but it still needed work. Making a ring from melted down pawn shop silver had proven to be much harder than making bullets. Tasha's father had made her parents' wedding bands in the same fashion and to this day Tash kept them on her key chain, the only thing she had left of them besides memories. He had wanted to make some sort of gesture to let her know that the weeks he had spent with her had been the happiest of his life but let's face it, romantic gestures weren't exactly his area of expertise. Making her a ring like her dad once had for her mom was all he had been able to come up with.

He stole a quick glance behind him at the sexed-out whore and a fresh wave of guilt and shame swept over him. His fist closed tightly around the ring and he quickly turned away. _Fuck, he was a monster._ A cheating, dirtbag of a monster who deserved to be exterminated like the things he had spent his whole life hunting.

Dean had never had any trouble distinguishing right from wrong. That moral line had never been clouded or grey for him like it had been for Sam and hunting decisions had seldom been difficult for the elder sibling. But now ... He looked down at the gun again, fingering the trigger almost wistfully, contemplating his options.

 _What was the right thing to do?_ Destroy the monster he had become and end any chance of the twins ever being born? Through circumstances that still baffled him, he had been giving the blessing (or was that the curse?) of meeting his future children, spending three wonderful days getting to know the incredible little beings they were. Well, would be. But he needed to survive two more years to conceive them and he wouldn't ...couldn't...keep breathing that long in the state he was in now. He was going to kill someone ... and soon. He knew this without a doubt. He took another long drink from the bottle. Could he justify the risk of killing an innocent person for the sake of two children who hadn't been born yet?

A shuddering sigh escaped him and he buried his head in his hands, his fingers fisting tightly in his short hair. His future children weren't the only ones who needed him. He couldn't check out knowing something was wrong with Sam. Dean didn't even know if that _thing_   at Bobby's even _was_ his brother. For all he knew, Sam was already gone for good, though some part of him deep inside simply refused to believe that. Their father's dying words echoed in his mind. " _You have to save Sammy. If you can't save him, Dean, you might have to kill him._ " It was fucking eerie how that exact same set of instructions seemed to be back in play.

He had to save Sam. He had to help Cas. He had to start that family with Tash.

He exhaled slowly, feeling the familiar weariness of responsibility and failure seeping into his bones as he bent over to pull on his boots. He slid the silver ring back into his pocket and shoved the gun in the back of his jeans as he stood up. Making a conscious effort to avoid looking back at the naked woman on the bed, he tossed three hundred bucks on the dresser, shouldered his duffel, and left the room.

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

Bobby could hear Ellen and Jo on their heels by the time they reached the door and Sam shouldered it open, stepping inside with gun drawn and Bobby right behind him.

There was a naked girl on the bed, presumably the hooker 'Corazone', but no sign of Dean. Sam moved quickly to the bed and pressed two fingers against the prostitute's neck.

"She alive?" Ellen asked as she stepped inside the room, her voice wavering slightly.

Sam nodded and Bobby couldn't help but think he caught a flicker of disappointment cross the young hunter's face. "Yeah," Sam told them frankly. "Dean's got a helluva lot of willpower. He must have managed to stop before he was done again."

Ellen nodded in agreement. "He's fighting it."

Jo was staring at the hooker with a puzzled look on her face. "Is it just me or does she look like somebody we know?"

Bobby checked the bathroom quickly, not sure if Jo's observation was merely a coincidence or if Dean had deliberately sought out a victim that looked like his girlfriend. "We musta just missed him," he announced, coming back out. "Bathroom's still got condensation on the mirror. Seems he took a shower after…"

"Dean?" came a sudden, anxious female voice from the door. "Is he here?"

Before anyone could answer her, Tasha pushed forward past Jo and Bobby but stopped dead at the sight of the naked girl splayed obscenely on the bed, an involuntary gasp escaping her.

"She's alive," Ellen explained quickly, flipping the bedspread up to cover the prostitute. "He didn't kill her. He hasn't turned yet."

Tasha swallowed and nodded, trying her hardest to keep every emotion coursing through her right now from showing in her face in this room full of people staring at her in uncomfortable silence. Hurt, fear, betrayal, worry, anguish...even anger. "So we can still save him," she managed.

"Course, honey," Ellen assured her, giving Cas a reproachful look for bringing Tasha into the room in the first place.

Cas cleared his throat and patted awkwardly Tasha on the shoulder. "This wasn't him," he told her. "This was the succubus influence. He has very little control over…"

"We'll get him," Ellen interrupted, rolling her eyes at the ex-angel's inept attempt at reassurance. "We've still got one more stop."

"Actually, we've got two," Bobby announced, trying to get the young brunette's attention off the hurtful display Dean had left behind. "There are two more ingredients. One is the Hintoo weed that has to be picked under a full moon. That's the one we know he'll be at Stillen Cemetery for tomorrow night coz that's the only place it's known to grow in the country and tomorrow's full moon. We'll get him there."

"What's the other then?" Tasha asked, desperate to have everyone stop giving her those looks of exaggerated sympathy. She did, however, make a conscious effort to keep her back turned to the bed.

Bobby grimaced. "The other's gonna be tricky to get but there's a few places you could try."

"What do you mean, 'you'?" Ellen interjected.

"I mean you, Tasha, and Jo should go pick up the blessed goblet while us men," he jerked his thumb at Sam and Cas in turn, "go nab Dean and get some Hintoo weed. We're running out of time and it don't take six to take him down. That and…" He gave Tasha a guilty glance. He didn't want Tasha with them if they were too late and came across another scene like this and he didn't want any of the women anywhere near Dean until they had him back to his old self...especially Ellen.

Ellen nodded quickly and cut off the brunette's argument. "He's right, honey. Dean's turning fast and after this latest…incident, we need to get the rest of the ingredients so we can cure him as soon as we find him before he's damaged permanently."

Tasha was about to argue but stopped, letting out a tired sigh instead and slumping her shoulders in defeat. She was still feeling weak and exhausted and wouldn't be any help in stopping Dean anyway. She trusted Sam, Bobby, and Cas to do all they could to find Dean so she would go with the Harvelles and pick up one of these blessed goblets that were needed to mix the cure in.

"Okay," she said quietly. "Let's get going."

The rest of them agreed quickly and moved to exit the room. Bobby lingered behind and pried three hundred dollar bills from the wad of cash in his pocket and tossed them on the dresser next to the money Dean had left, mumbling an apology to the prostitute under his breath as he turned out the light and closed the door behind him.

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**


	13. Love, Lust, and Something in Between

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

"Do you still think he will show?" Cas asked Bobby quietly over the phone on three-way radio setting from where he was crouched in the grass behind a large headstone in Stillen Cemetery, Maryland. "It is possible he will succumb and give up on pursuing a cure. Dean is strong but not infallible." There was a long, silent pause. "After taking so much from the woman in Delaware," Cas continued gravely, "perhaps he has lost the willpower to resist the pull of the succubus within him."

"He'll be here," was Bobby's gruff reply. He was squatting behind a gardener's shed and the cramp in his leg was not helping his foul mood. "It's early yet. It's not even dusk. No point in him picking the Hintoo weed 'fore the moon is full. Dean knows things influenced by a full moon are even stronger near midnight so he'll probably wait 'til then." He didn't feel as convinced as he sounded.

"No, Cas is right. We should cover both our bases," Sam's voice interjected. "Bobby, it's true Dean would know to wait until nearer midnight but right now, he's probably more succubus than human. Even if he managed to resist the hunger and hunker down to wait somewhere, he still might give in. Or maybe he'll just run into temptation on the way."

Bobby frowned. "What are you sayin'?"

An impatient sigh sounded in the phones. "I'm saying, if I know Dean, he would have decided to wait close by. If he had enough willpower left after that hooker in Delaware, then he would park the Impala somewhere really quiet and wait it out. But…"

"But what?" Bobby snapped, annoyed that they were depending on this soulless, untrustworthy version of Dean's brother. But as uncaring as Sam was, he still knew Dean better than anyone.

"But if he wasn't able to fully resist his urges, I guarantee he would end up at that bar we passed where we turned onto this street."

A low growl escaped the older hunter at the mere thought of Dean in a bar full of pretty women, or even ugly ones at this point. "Okay," he conceded. "You take Cas and go to the bar. I'll stay here in case you're underestimating your brother and he does still want to find this cure."

Sam snorted at Bobby's snide tone but stood up from his hiding place near the entrance to the cemetery.

"And leave me the car!" Bobby huffed. "You two can hotwire that old truck at the back gate."

"Come on Castiel," Sam said into the radio, waving up the hill for the ex-angel to break cover and come down to go with him. "Get your ass down here. Ever been to a country bar?"

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

Tasha pretended to doze off again in the back of the Harvelle's Jeep in an effort to avoid conversation and difficult questions while she was feeling so hurt and raw. She was still weak and nauseous but most of all, she was a mish-mash of painful emotions all wrapped up in her desperate worry for Dean. She had always dealt with inner turmoil alone, Dean being her only exception. But since he wasn't here right now - since he was probably out somewhere _getting fucking laid again_ \- she just wanted to run away and cry in solitude.

But Dean wasn't lost yet. He still had a chance of being saved and she knew Bobby, Cas, Ellen, and Jo were his best chance. They wanted him saved every bit as much as she did so she would work with them and they would fix Dean together. She wished she had been assigned to stay on Sam's team, someone she had always been able to talk to and one of the two people alive in the world she had let past her defenses, but it made sense to keep the women away from Dean and she hadn't argued Bobby's decision to send her with the Harvelles. It wasn't that she didn't like them; they had always been kind, friendly, and welcoming to her. It was just she didn't form attachments easily and hadn't been able to let them in yet, despite Dean's assurances that it would turn out fine if she did.

They were on their way to Denton, Maryland, not far from the cemetery where the men were planning on ambushing Dean. There was a powerful witch coven there, one who had members in high places and had managed to wrangle an unwritten truce with the hunting community in general. After generations of fighting and back-and-forth killings by both parties, one witch and one hunter had fallen in love and made a plea for peace, somehow convincing both sides to agree. Now the coven didn't hurt anybody and occasionally provided protection amulets and charms for the hunting community and in exchange, hunters left them alone. The stalemate didn't sit well with many hunters, Bobby and Ellen and John Winchester included, but some reputable, well-followed hunters insisted the witches were obeying and that it was best for all to let them be.

Bobby was fairly certain these witches had one of the seven known goblets that had been carved from the stone of the original Temple of Eros and blessed by Eros's loyal disciple Achaikos. He was also fairly certain they would not willingly give it up, since it was said to be required to form a true love potion, something the witches naturally denied ever using.

The plan was to go to the head witch and ask for a certain demon-repelling charm they were reported to have. It was, of course, a ruse to scope out the place and figure out what wards and security they had on their storage chamber beneath their temple. Things went fairly smoothly and Tasha was impressed at how well Jo and Ellen worked together, playing off each other and running with whatever lies the other made up. She had been under the impression they didn't see eye to eye when it came to hunting but watching them was like watching the Winchesters at work. Effortless and effective. She remained mostly silent but the elderly head witch kept eyeing her and Jo intently.

"You sure you two young ladies aren't looking for a revenge curse?" she blurted finally, smiling knowingly.

Ellen shook her head quickly. "No. Just the demon charm. We'll gladly pay for it."

The old woman laughed, a surprisingly warm laugh and not the stereotypical cackle Tasha had been expected.

"I only ask because I see both of you are feeling hurt and betrayed right now at the hand of a man."

Tasha didn't miss the guilty look Jo shot at her mother and couldn't help but wonder if the blonde was still crushing on Dean. _Did Jo feel betrayed by Dean as she did? Or was there someone else?_ She shook it off, knowing right now she didn't have any emotion to spare on petty jealousy. She trusted Dean. Not succubus Dean, obviously, but she trusted _her_   Dean.

The old witch licked her thin, cracked lips. "You know, many young women find peace by forsaking men altogether and joining our ranks."

"We ain't here for a recruiting session," Ellen barked.

"Well I wasn't looking at you," the witch fired back. "It's not hard to see you're quite happy in love."

Now it was Ellen's turn to blush as she threw an equally guilty look at her daughter. Tasha fought away a smirk. Dean definitely owed Sam twenty bucks. The stubborn hunter's unwillingness to even contemplate Bobby having sex had him losing yet another bet.

"Will you give us the charm or not?" Ellen demanded.

The woman gestured to a subordinate young witch standing behind her and five minutes later, the three hunters were handed the superfluous charm with the witch's insistence no money exchange was required. They thanked her and left, plans being devised in all their heads of how to get back in here later tonight.

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

Sam was torn. He pursed his lips and contemplated his options as he looked down at the not-overly-pretty-but-definitely-doable blonde smiling up at him, practically licking her lips in anticipation of his answer. She was looking for a full on lay to soften the rejection she had received from Dean, but Sam was pretty sure she would settle for giving him a blow job in the parking lot behind the bar. But then again, if she was to be believed, Dean could be turning into a succubus any minute now so he should probably go after him and worry about getting laid later.

Cas made the decision for him by stepping up into the personal space of both Sam and the blonde, creasing his brow at the tall hunter in confusion. "Has she seen Dean?" he asked impatiently, having not had any luck during his own round of the bar patrons.

"Who's this?" the blonde purred, turning to Cas, her hand slipping off Sam's chest to work open the top buttons of Cas's shirt instead.

Sam rolled his eyes, not hiding his annoyance. "Yeah," he answered Cas's question. "Apparently she was here with two friends when Dean came in ten minutes ago. They all tried to leave with him but he told her to go fuck someone else because he only needed her friends."

The girl pouted. "Apparently he's got a thing for brunettes," she whined, both hands now fumbling with Cas's shirt.

Cas cleared his throat uncomfortably and pried her hands off him. "I assure you," he told her, "Under different circumstances, Dean would find you attractive also."

"Where did he take your friends?" Sam asked, getting back to business.

"Stacey has an apartment a few blocks away," the blonde answered, turning her attention back to Sam.

"I need an address."

"Cedar Bark Road. Eaglewood Apartments. Number four."

"Let's go," Sam said brusquely to Cas, pushing the blonde's wandering hands away.

Cas nodded but hesitated, looking back at the girl with a frown.

"What?" Sam demanded impatiently. "You wanna stay and get laid? I can go get Dean by myself."

Cas scowled and squared his shoulders. "Dean told her to fornicate with someone else," he explained. "He no doubt compelled her. If she's under the succubus spell, she _has_ _to_   obey." He looked around the bar at the seedy-looking patrons. "She will keep trying. We can't just leave her here to be taken advantage of."

The blonde giggled. "Did you just say fornicate?" Her hand was on Cas again. "I'll fornicate with you, Blue Eyes."

Sam groaned. "You have got to be shitting me." He grabbed the girl by the wrist and pulled her behind him as he headed to the door. Cas followed quickly, an unsure and distrustful expression on his face.

"See, that's just the kind of thing the old me would have been encumbered by," Sam said as he led the other two out into the parking lot and over to the secluded far edge. He stopped behind a pick-up truck with the bar logo on the side. "That's why I'm a much better hunter now," he added, pulling the girl up sharply against him, wrapping his arm around her neck and cutting off her air supply. He simply held her tighter when she began struggling for breath.

"I won't hurt her," he snapped when Cas's eyes widened and the ex-angel moved to intervene. Cas stopped and held back but his expression was edgy and Sam could tell he didn't entirely believe him. Finally she stopped struggling and Sam caught her as she slumped in his arms, unconscious. He lifted her effortlessly up over the tailgate and dumped her in the back of the flat bed.

He turned back to Cas. "Dean's order will have worn off by the time she wakes up," he said simply. "She'll be fine. _Now_   can we go get my brother?"

Cas frowned but nodded, pulling out his phone to call Bobby as they headed back to their stolen vehicle.

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

Thankfully, it was a full moon and witches, despite Hollywood's indication otherwise, never practiced or worshipped on a full moon. This meant the 'temple', which was the small church-looking building in a clearing in the woods that the women had visited earlier, should be empty or close to empty.

They each geared up with a gun and a knife and various anti-spell charms that Ellen had acquired over the years, adding a pair of hand cuffs at the last moment. Creeping through the woods unseen was made harder by the abundance of moonlight but there didn't appear to be anyone or anything around to see the three women as they slipped up to the back door.

It was a heavy, wooden door with an old lock and took a few minutes for Jo to pick with her slim lock-pick tools. Eventually though it swung open and the three women moved inside cautiously.

The place was completely empty. Normally that would be good news but from a hunter's perspective, if it seems too good to be true, it usually is.

"Okay, where's the entrance to this chamber?" Tasha asked Ellen, her voice barely more than a whisper.

Ellen shrugged. "Not sure," she admitted. Her extensive hunting contacts had only informed her the centuries-old trove of black magic treasures was somewhere in the temple. "I just heard it was in here and when that young witch went to get our charm today, she went that way." She pointed through a door at the far end of the main hall and all three women immediately headed in that direction.

Finding the secret door behind a cliché swinging bookshelf wasn't that hard but figuring out how to open it was a different story. After an hour of trying, the women were just coming to the realization that it was most likely only opened by a spell when they heard a small gasp behind them. They spun to see the young witch from their meeting with the head of the coven today staring at them with her mouth hanging open.

Tasha and Jo were at her side in a flash, each gripping an arm tightly as they manhandled her over to a chair. She was still staring at them in shock as they cuffed her to the chair but her mouth finally closed and her eyes hardened when Ellen walked up in front of her.

"How do you open this door?" the elder Harvelle demanded. Upon getting no response, she frowned and pulled on her no-nonsense demeanor that managed to subdue many large and hardy hunters with a mere look; Bobby, Sam, and Dean included. "Tell me how to open this door or you won't like what happens."

The girl, in her late teens or early twenties at the most, shook her head fervently. "You don't want to go in there," she whispered.

"We'll be the judge of that," Ellen fired back, not backing down.

"We're just looking for one small thing," Jo interceded. "We won't take anything else."

The girl shook her head again and started mumbling fast, incomprehensible words. Ellen quickly slapped her hand over the witch's mouth.

"No spells sweetheart. Not unless it's the one that opens that there door."

The prisoner nodded, her eyes fearful. Ellen decided asking nicely wasn't going to work fast enough and she drew her Glock, placing the tip of the barrel against the girl's chest. A muffled squeal sounded through Ellen's hand and the girl started nodding vigorously.

Ellen smiled. Witches were, after all, human and could be killed by normal human means. "You ready to give us the spell for the door?"

Another nod.

Ellen pulled her hand away from the girl's mouth slowly but left the gun where it was. "Listen up," she said bluntly. "You open that door and that's it. If anything else happens or if I even get a hint that your spell is for something else, I shoot. Whatever you think you can do to us, won't happen faster than my trigger finger, I assure you, honey. Got it?"

A submissive nod. Ellen didn't wait for the approval or the opinions of the two younger hunters but simply gestured for the witch to start her spell.

The witch's voice was shaky and she never took her eyes off Ellen's fierce ones as she started to speak. The words were foreign and Jo found herself praying silently that her mom's intimidation would work as well on this witch as it had on the unruly patrons of the Roadhouse. The spell seemed to go on for a good minute and the blonde was starting to doubt its validity when the door behind them popped open with a soft click.

"It's open!" Tasha exclaimed. "It worked!"

Ellen nodded and tilted her head towards the dark entrance, indicating the two younger hunters check it out while she stayed with their prisoner, gun still trained on her chest. "Be careful!" Jo heard her call out unnecessarily as she and Tasha switched on their flashlights and descended the stone stairs just beyond the door.

There was a light switch at the bottom of the stairs and Tasha flicked it on before turning off her flashlight. They found themselves in a large room with boxes on shelves lining all around. It was almost disappointingly dull and Jo groaned as she realized they would have to search all these boxes to find what they were looking for, many of which could be potentially dangerous to open. This was going to be a painstakingly slow process.

She looked at Tasha who sighed tiredly and shrugged. "Best get started," the brunette said and moved to the closest shelf.

Jo was just picking up the first box on the shelf at the other end when the door at the top of the stairs slammed shut with a loud bang.

"Mom?" Jo called out, startled. She headed immediately for the stairs, worry for her mother threatening to turn into panic when she heard no reply.

She never reached the door. A human form appeared out of thin air on the stairs in front of her. Well, sort of human. It was man-shaped but with a flat, almost featureless face, just two sunken eyes staring at her. Whatever it was, it lashed out at her and sent her tumbling back down the steps.

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

Eaglewood Apartments was a rundown, one-storey building much like many of the places the Winchester brothers had stayed during their longer stints in various cities and towns across the USA while growing up. Bobby pulled into the driveway just a few seconds after Cas and Sam and the three approached apartment number four together. They didn't need to get close for confirmation that Dean was inside because the sounds of sex were unmistakable. And loud. A girl's voice rang out in panted, lustful moans and by the time they were at the door, they could hear the sound of the headboard slamming repeatedly against the wall.

"God damn that boy," Bobby growled, shifting uncomfortably and not looking forward to the sight that he was sure to be greeted with. "Of all people to get bitten by a damn succ..."

Sam kicked the door in before he could finish, disappearing quickly into the dimly-lit room. Bobby sighed and went in after him, Cas close on his heels.

The sight that greeted them in the one-room apartment was just as unpleasant as Bobby had imagined. Dean was in the middle of the bed, shirtless but with his jeans still on, pushed down just low enough on his hips to free himself. He was positioned behind a girl on her hands and knees, her skirt bunched up around her waist, and his hands were gripping her hips while he rammed his length into her in time with her loud moans. He didn't seem to notice the newcomers at all for he never slowed or faltered. His eyes were closed and his head tilted back in pleasure as he yanked the girl's hips roughly back onto him at a hard, fast pace. Just as disturbing was the sight of the second girl on the bed, lying on her back next to the active pair and wearing nothing but a bra. Her eyes were closed and she wasn't moving, an obvious sign Dean had already had his way with her before moving onto the second girl.

Cas stopped short and gasped at the sight. If it weren't for the disturbingly uncomfortable scene in front of him, Bobby would have chuckled at the shocked expression on the ex-angel's face. He did spare a thought to wonder if Cas had ever even seen sex before. If he hadn't, then Dean Winchester in all his glory in the middle of a succubus-induced threesome would definitely be considered diving in at the deep end.

The older hunter snapped his attention back to the dilemma at hand. "Stop him!" he barked at Sam, who was still a few steps ahead of him.

Sam was already moving. He lunged forward, practically diving over the bed and tackling his oblivious brother. The pair fell onto the floor behind the bed in a tangle of limbs.

Despite Sam having the element of surprise, it was Dean who made it out on top, slamming his fist into his younger brother's face a few times before springing to his feet. He landed a hard kick in Sam's gut and turned towards Cas and Bobby.

"Stay outta my way!" he hissed, throwing a longing glance back at the girl he had been fucking. She was now lying down face first, struggling to roll onto her back to see what was going on but clearly too weak to do so.

"Not a chance, son," Bobby answered back calmly. "You don't want to do this."

Dean tucked his still-hard erection back into his jeans upon the realization the intruders were not going to let him finish his task unhindered. "Oh yes I do," he said evenly. "You have no idea what this is like, Bobby. I just need another minute." He stepped towards the older hunter as he spoke.

"Another minute and you'll be a monster for good!" Bobby tried to reason with him, knowing by the look in those hazel eyes that Dean was too far gone to stop himself. They would have to force him.

"No, another minute and I'll be free," Dean countered, lunging suddenly towards the older hunter. Bobby balled his fist and threw up his arm to block Dean's swing but it wasn't a punch that came his way. Instead he felt the lightest touch to his wrist, skin on skin, and everything changed.

Cas watched as Bobby lowered his arm and unclenched his fist, his shoulders sagging slightly in surrender. The older man just stood there, slack-jawed and not moving a muscle to defend himself as Dean drew back and punched him hard, sending him sprawling onto the floor.

"Dean! No!" Cas cried in instinctive reaction, rushing forward to prevent the infected hunter's boot from connecting with Bobby's face and quite possibly snapping his neck.

Dean stopped Cas just as quickly, shaking off a hit to the shoulder the ex-angel managed to land before returning with a jab to the face. An instant later, Dean had his fist wrapped up in the front of Cas's shirt and was pressing him up against the wall.

Cas knew he should be fighting back but couldn't make his muscles obey him. He didn't _want_   to push Dean away - quite the opposite, in fact. Dean held him still for a moment, leaning in close to his face with a smirk.

"How does it feel to have _me_   up in _your_   personal space for once, Cas?" he practically breathed in Cas's ear.

Cas swallowed. He felt strange. His whole body was on fire, his breath was turning raspy, and his trousers were getting painfully tight below his belt. His knees were weakening and if it weren't for the strong hand fisted in his shirt, he thought he might actually drop to the floor. He vaguely recalled being here for a purpose but all he could focus on was Dean's full lips, those long lashes, that hot breath on his cheek, and the smug smirk on that damn kissable face.

 _What was wrong with him_? This was Dean. He was trembling with some sensation he had never quite experienced but when he opened his mouth to speak, to beg and plead shamelessly for more contact, his words were cut off.

"Oh you have got to be kidding me!" Sam exclaimed in obvious disgust, grabbing Dean by the shoulder and yanking him around to meet the fist aimed at his face.

The impact sent Dean backwards, smacking into Cas with a grunt. Sam didn't hesitate or falter, however, and landed another couple of punches on his brother before he could recover. Within seconds, they were in a full-on fist fight in the one-room apartment, slamming into walls and smashing both the coffee table and a mirrored dresser on the side of the room.

The fight was violent and disturbing to watch, as neither brother held back nor showed any remorse while they pummelled each other. Dean directed blows to Sam's still-healing leg where he had been stitched up after the Daeva fight and Sam slammed his brother's head into the edge of the dresser with as much force as he could muster, aiming punches into the elder sibling's gut whenever possible to prevent him from barking any orders out to the two men standing in lovestruck stupors at the side of the room. A hit to Dean's head with the leg from the broken coffee table finally gave Sam the upper hand and he knocked his brother to the floor and dove on top of him. His hands wrapped quickly around Dean's neck in an attempt to choke him out but the gasping hunter still managed to croak out two words.

" _Bobby...help_..."

Sam lifted his brother's head up and slammed it back on the hard floor, knocking him out cold instantly. He then jumped to his feet and turned to face Bobby, who was already charging towards him with a broken table leg in his hand, obeying Dean's last command. Sam blocked the clumsy swing easily and snatched the weapon away from Bobby, shaking his head and grumbling something disapproving about letting emotions affect your game.

"He's out but he's fine!" he barked, holding his hands up towards both Cas and Bobby. "No need to protect him. I'm not gonna hurt him." He narrowed his eyes at them both. "You guys were compelled, you know that right?"

"Are you sure he's alright?" Cas heard himself asking, feeling as if he would die from heartache if Dean was hurt, if he was denied any chance of that gorgeous creature's touch. The intensity had lessened when Dean was knocked out but ... but that desire to touch him or be touched by him was still there.

Sam groaned. "He's fine," he snapped before letting out a long sigh. "I swear, he's fine, okay? Just don't either of you touch him again. The spell will wear off." He kept his body placed between Dean and two men with the openly worried faces.

Cas and Bobby hovered, casting anxious and longing glances at the unconscious hunter on the floor, but neither challenged Sam, who made sure not to appear as a threat to Dean. After a full minute of silent stares and confused frowns, Cas and Bobby both took a sheepish step backwards. The younger hunter finally stood up straight, rolling his shoulders and grimacing in pain from the violent fight.

"Christ, Cas," he griped. "You realize you were seriously about to make out with my brother!"

Cas pulled on his familiar lopsided frown. "Was not."

"You sure looked like you were," Bobby chimed in.

Sam snorted. "Oh, you're one to talk," he fired at the older man. "You'da gotten on your knees and blown him if he'd asked."

Bobby scowled and if looks could kill, Sam would surely be dead on the floor. "Didn't seem to affect you," he pointed out curtly.

Sam gave them a one-shouldered shrug. "Perk of having no soul, I guess." He motioned for the other men to stand back while he righted a wooden chair that had been knocked over in the scuffle and hauled his brother's dead weight onto it. Dean's head slumped forward on his chest, the trickles of blood from his mouth and his temple starting to dry and crust over. Sam was just tying Dean's wrists to the arms when Cas spoke up quietly.

"Umm... what does 'blown him' mean?"

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

Still slightly dazed, Jo felt Tasha tugging her to her feet and firing her gun over the downed hunter's head at the creature. Jo managed to swing her head sideways to see that the figure wasn't reacting much to the shots and was now coming towards them. She was upright and trying to steady herself by the time Tasha gave up on the gun and drew her small, silver knife.

Not thinking there was any possible way the brunette was going to be able to get a good jab into the large, advancing figure with a four-inch blade, Jo pulled her backwards into the room, hoping for a few seconds reprieve. She looked around frantically and saw a jewel-encrusted ceremonial dagger on a nearby shelf and went for it. Tasha broke free from her grip and charged the creature anyway.

"Tasha, wait!" Jo cried, not wanting to see Dean's girlfriend hurt or killed while she was supposed to have her back. Her first big hands-on combat experience and her partner was about to get butchered! Her opinion that attacking the thing with a small knife was completely futile, however, was quickly retracted when she saw Tasha make her move.

Jo liked knives. Actually, Jo _loved_   knives. She had a collection that numbered in the high nineties and included some very rare and beautiful finds. And Jo was pretty handy in using these knives. She could throw them with deadly accuracy and wasn't too shabby at parrying and jabbing either. But Tasha... Dean had mentioned his girlfriend was a work of art in motion with a knife in her hand but Jo had figured that was more his biased crush talking than actual fact. It wasn't like Tasha was a great shot with the rifle or anything on the few occasions they had trained together with Dean and the brunette was about Jo's equal when it came to sparring hand-to-hand. But Jo saw now that she had been wrong to dismiss the girl's knife skills simply because she only owned one single blade.

Tasha was light on her feet and moved swiftly around the creature, never staying in one place and never stabbing or swiping from the expected direction. She sank the knife into the beast four times in four different places before Jo even managed to join in with the dagger. Jo figured silver must be more effective than bullets because each of Tasha's stabs got a violent, screamed reaction from the insanely strong creature. Her admiration for the often stand-offish brunette that she had mixed feeling about grew significantly in that instant ... and the two minutes that followed.

Jo swung the two-foot dagger at their foe's neck, sparing a brief instant of worry for her mom upstairs when the blade found purchase, sinking deeply into the flesh of the shoulder. Her next blow struck a different spot and was followed up with an angry sweep of the arm that sent Tasha flying across the room and crashing noisily into the shelves.

Jo stepped up her game, determined to stop the creature from charging over and reaching her hunting partner while she was down.

 _Oooh, she liked the sound of that_ ... _hunting partner_.

She swung the dagger again and again, some blows being batted away and some hitting their mark but none seemed to be having any lasting effect. She did, however, manage to keep the creature's attention away from a gasping and obviously hurt Tasha behind her.

The dagger was finally knocked out of Jo's hand and she was slammed down to the ground by a hard hit that would surely leave her ribcage looking like she'd been run over by the Impala. Deprived temporarily of the somewhat effective weapon she had been using, she drew her gun started firing, shot after shot ringing out until the Beretta finally clicked empty. The creature was still above her, held at bay by the continual stream of bullets but not deterred in the slightest from its mission to kill her.

She swung her arm up and tried to scramble away and honestly didn't think she was going to make it when she was greeted with the welcome sight of a slim brunette launching herself at the creature and sinking that freaking little blade of lighting into its neck. The hunters were rewarded with a furious howl and within seconds, they were both on their feet, moving around the creature and stabbing at it whenever opportunity presented itself.

They each took another hard hit and landed a few damaging ones back on the creature but it was still anyone's game two minutes later when the figure simply vanished into thin air, disappearing as quickly as it had appeared. Both young women looked around, breathing heavily with wary expressions on their faces.

"What the hell was that?" Tasha panted.

Jo shrugged her shoulders. "No clue." She turned her head towards the door at the top of the stairs as the door swung open. "Mom?" she queried hesitantly.

"Joanna Beth?" came Ellen's voice, raspy with worry. "You okay?"

Jo ran up the stairs followed closely by Tasha. She surprised herself by giving her mom a hug when she reached her, pulling out of it quickly but not missing the loving smile that tugged at her mother's lips.

"Mom, there was this thing that appeared after the door slammed shut," Jo explained, still breathless from the fight and ignoring her mother's frown as the older woman used her thumb and forefinger to turn Jo's head sideways to examine the bruise forming on her daughter's flushed cheek. "I don't know what it was but it was fast and strong and..." Jo turned to nod approvingly at Tasha who emerged from the basement chamber to stand quietly next to them. "But we managed to hold it off 'til it disappeared into thin air."

Ellen nodded, her face still the very picture of relief and motherly love. "It was a familiar," she explained, pointing to the unmoving witch still cuffed to the chair that was now lying on its side on the floor. "She called her familiar before she opened that door." Only old-school witches using the most powerful of dark magics still used familiars, or faithful servants and protectors which had often been depicted in Hollywood and children's stories as cats. "I convinced her to send it away," she added with a satisfied huff.

Ellen extended her thankful smile to the brunette who was watching them silently with an almost wistful look on her face. Jo remembered Dean saying that Tasha had lost both her parents at a young age, her mother when she had been only eight, and was struck by an uncustomary rush of sympathy and feelings of friendship towards her. The girl was hard to get to know but she certainly wasn't unlikable. She smiled as she watched Tasha's normally guarded expression soften when Ellen reached out to touch the brunette's face just above a bleeding cut on her brow, the older woman's face still exuding motherly concern in spades.

A low groan escaped the rousing witch and Ellen tore herself away from the battered pair to quickly put a gag on their prisoner and prevent her from summoning any other undesirable associates. She stood up and her bossy tone suddenly returned with a vengeance. She turned back to her daughter and Tasha with her hands on her hips. "Now, let's find that goblet and go cure Dean."

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

Bobby didn't ever recall a time where he felt more embarrassed than after he came down from the high Dean had given him from a simple touch to the wrist. In all his hunting days ... goddamn these Winchester boys. He avoided any further discussion of the incident by suggesting they move Dean to another location before the women arrived with the blessed goblet. He hadn't missed the hurt look on Tasha's face at the sight of the sexed-out hooker Dean had left for them to find and didn't want to put her through that again. Both girls on the bed were alive but sleeping soundly and although he had thrown a sheet over them, it wasn't hard to figure out what had transpired. Hell, the room still reeked of sex.

Sam was reluctant to leave, not understanding why they should bother since they were safe where they were, but Cas agreed wholeheartedly with Bobby, effectively outvoting the younger man two to one. Frowning, Sam slumped his brother over his shoulder and carried him out to the Impala, insisting on dumping him in the trunk so there was no chance Bobby and Cas could have any physical contact with him again. The hunters found an old, abandoned barn and Sam re-tied a stirring Dean to a post near the middle.

Although manageable by now, the urge to approach the awakening hunter still pulled at Bobby. Just a taste was all he wanted, to stroke the young man's cheek or ... his eyes lowered to Dean's still-bare chest ... or touch that anti-possession tattoo. A light caress with his fingertips, that's it, maybe followed by his tongue...

 _Goddamnit_! He chastised himself, both turned on and sickened by his own thoughts at the same time.

Upon retrieving full lucidity, Dean immediately began pleading with Cas and Bobby to help him. The pair sat next to each other on a bench at the far side of the barn, as ordered by Sam, and it was clear to Bobby that Cas was struggling to resist the temptation to obey Dean just as much as he was, if not more. Sam, on the other hand, sat on an old chair next to his prisoner, an impassive look on his face.

"Shut up, Dean," he said finally, sounding bored. "You're not full succubus; your touch doesn't hold them under all that long. You're just embarrassing yourself."

Sam steered the conversation towards Alphas, his disappointment at Dean's insistence he couldn't yet feel or sense the Succubus Alpha clearly evident on his face.

Bobby studied the younger Winchester with a sad expression. His heart sank into his gut and twisted into tight, painful knots at the lack of concern for Dean's welfare in the cold, single-track purpose of the young man's questions. Fatigue was now pulling at him and his head was tipped backwards to rest against the barn wall behind him when he rolled it sideways to meet the eyes of the ex-angel sitting next to him.

"Hey, Cas?" he ventured quietly.

"Yes?"

"When Balthazar said there was no getting your grace back, you didn't argue with him," he said slowly. "Does that mean you don't think we can get it ... or Sam's soul ... back?"

Cas gave him a long, thoughtful look. "A year ago, I would have said no," he answered finally. "But since meeting the Winchesters, I just don't know."

They both turned their gazes to the brothers in front of them; brothers who may look like the men they loved as family but who were both virtually unrecognizable at this point.

Cas continued speaking. "There was no way to stop Lucifer yet we did it." He paused again as a slow smile spread across his face. "Besides, once we cure him, do you really think Dean will take no as an answer?"

Bobby nodded, seeing Cas's point. "Nope, you're right about that. 'Specially not when his little brother's at stake."

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

It wasn't much before dawn when the women showed up with the final item on Samuel's list, Bobby having slipped out near midnight to gather the required Hintoo weed from the cemetery. While Bobby prepared the potion Dean was to drink, the succubus-infected hunter tried every trick in the book to coax someone, _anyone_ , to come close to him. He whined about his ropes being too tight and pleaded for hushed and private conversations with each of them. He even faked convulsions and very nearly had Tasha in tears as Sam pulled his eyelids open and finally hauled off and punched him to convince everyone it was just another ploy.

"How are the scars he got from the Davea fight healed already?" she asked Bobby at one point, studying Dean and noting the deep gashes he had received on his chest barely a week ago were completely gone. Her arm still hurt like a son of a bitch and Sam's limp had just barely disappeared.

"That'd be the succubus," Bobby explained. "Silver's the only thing that can kill them so all Dean's other injuries would just heal themselves."

"But he's not a succubus yet," she pointed out.

"Not fully," Sam countered. "But he's taken a big share of sex-mojo or whatever it is from at least four girls so he's probably more succubus than human right now."

Tasha fell silent and sat down cross-legged just outside of Dean's reach, trying not to look him in the eye. On the odd occasions she did, it wasn't Dean looking back at her. Sure he looked like Dean but there was no softness behind those hazel eyes anymore. Gone was that depth of hurt and pain that Dean was practically made of. She knew she should just leave the room and wait until this was over, that she was just torturing herself by sitting this close, but Bobby had been wary of the amount of power in some of the ingredients of Samuel Campbell's cure and she had overheard him telling Ellen he wasn't feeling too optimistic about this. If this was going to kill Dean, she wanted to be with him when he died, succubus or not.

"Tash," Dean whispered softly. "Tash, come closer. I won't touch you, I swear."

She kept her gaze trained on the floor and tried to ignore him.

"Tash, babe, I just want to apologize," he continued, speaking so softly nobody else could hear. "This cure might not work and if it doesn't, Sam and Bobby are gonna kill me so... babe, I just want to say goodbye. Just in case."

"You're not gonna die, Dean," she found herself whispering back, unable to ignore him any longer. "You're gonna be fine."

"What about us?" he asked, the expression on his face tender and full of a concern she knew he didn't feel. "Are we gonna be okay? I screwed up, Tash. I'm so sorry. I don't want to die with things so bad between us. Please."

Her heart twisted in a knot at his words but she was rescued by Sam approaching with the heavy stone goblet in his hand. He bent over Dean and yanked his head back by the hair. "Yeah, yeah," he growled. "You already tried to kill her once. Now shut up and drink this."

To everyone's surprise, Dean drank the foul-smelling mixture without argument. He swallowed the last drop and looked back and forth between Tasha and Sam for a minute, everyone in the barn holding their breath and waiting for a reaction. Suddenly, his face screwed up in obvious agony and he tipped his head back and screamed, his feet thrashing about wildly. He howled and cried out and jerked violently, begging for reprieve in broken bursts of words. He pulled frantically at the ropes binding his wrists behind the pole and his back arched up into the air with every scream of agony. Eventually, his entire body went into convulsions and there wasn't a person in the room that thought they were fake this time.

Tasha watched in horror, using every ounce of restraint she had to resist rushing over to him. She was so shocked at the intensity of the reaction, Bobby's words of doubt running through her mind, that she didn't notice Sam standing calmly above her, watching his brother writhe and scream with a blank expression on his chiselled face.

Dean finally grew quiet and his body slumped against the pole, sagging into his restraints while his head dropped forward on his bare chest. Tasha scooted closer, her hand automatically extending out towards the unconscious hunter.

"Wait!" Bobby barked, coming closer to judge for himself. "Don't touch him yet," he warned. "We gotta be sure."

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**


	14. One Down, Two to Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember this was written before Dean went to Purgatory so he doesn't know what it is like and my version is potentially a lot worse than the canon version.

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

As Dean awoke and fought his way back to consciousness, he felt the pain first. His whole body felt like it had been used as a battering ram, throbbing and aching everywhere. It wasn't until his eyes opened and he blinked a few times that realization hit him of where he was and all that had happened in the past few days.

_Oh crap._

He was lying in something soft but scratchy that he quickly determined was hay. He turned his head slightly to see Tasha was sitting cross-legged next to him, intense worry pulling at her pretty features.

_Oh fuck._

He quickly closed his eyes again, wanting a few more seconds to pull his thoughts together and try to keep his composure.

"Dean?"

_Too late; she'd seen him._

He swallowed and groaned as he opened his eyes again and sat up stiffly. In an instant, five pairs of eyes were staring down at him. Besides Tasha, there was Bobby, Ellen, Cas, and Jo. He blinked again.

_Oh well, five at once was better than having to face just that one._

"How do you feel, son?" Ellen asked, reaching forward to help him up. He moved to accept her extended hand then stopped, recoiling sharply.

"You're alright," Ellen assured him quickly. "The cure worked. You can touch people."

"Oh," he said simply, memories of very, _very_   dirty thoughts about everyone in this room coming back to him. He wasn't one to get embarrassed easily when it came to sex but ... he noticed Cas and Bobby both averting their eyes and hovering behind the women and was silently grateful for it.

 _Damn, this was going to be awkward_.

Tasha, on the other hand, was a whole different story. Trying to fuck-to-death someone who loved and trusted you was so much more than awkward. He stole a quick glance in her direction as Ellen helped him up and steadied him. The younger brunette was pulling herself to her feet also and he noticed a fresh cut over her eyebrow but apart from that, she looked fine. Relief swept through him that he hadn't hurt her permanently ... at least not physically.

Not quite sure what to say, he looked down at his bare chest and decided to start with a sheepish, "I should probably put a shirt on."

Cas immediately offered to go get one from the car and practically ran out the barn door. Bobby looked like he was about to follow but instead went to his duffle on the table and pulled out a flask. Handing it to Dean without actually making eye contact he grumbled, "I guess you could use a drink."

Dean nodded and grasped the flask eagerly, tipping his head back as he took a long, much-needed drink of Bobby's cheap scotch.

"So are you feeling back to normal?" Jo broke in.

"Yeah." Dean nodded, stealing another glance at Tasha who was being surprisingly quiet. "I'm better. Much better." He looked around at them all. "Guys, I'm sorry," he gushed, shaking his head. "What I did..." he swung his head back to lock eyes with his girlfriend. "There's no excuse. I'm so sorry."

"It was the succubus," Tasha said softly. "You had no control."

He wanted to take her aside and tell her how truly sorry he was, to beg and plead for her forgiveness, but if he was being honest with himself, he didn't feel he deserved it. At least not yet. So when Cas came back in and handed him one of his own t-shirts, Dean tore his attention away from her and her unreadable expression and pulled the clothing on over his head. As he automatically tugged his amulet out from under the fabric to lay on top, his face pulled into a frown and his fingers wrapped around the cold metal.

"Wait, where's Sam?" he asked anxiously, turning to face Bobby, the only one he was sure knew that there was something wrong with his little brother.

"He went to get some food," Ellen answered. "We didn't know how long you were gonna be out."

"Bobby?" Dean asked the unanswered question without spelling it out.

Bobby sighed, managing to meet Dean's eyes since the subject didn't involve succubus-related problems. "He's still Sam," he informed the worried hunter. "But he's short one soul."

"WHAT!?!" Dean's eyes widened in alarm. "What the Hell does that mean?"

It was mostly Ellen that answered the complicated question, explaining how they had summoned Balthazar and discovered Sam's soul was gone, presumably lost in Purgatory with Cas's grace. She explained the ex-angel's belief that this had resulted in Sam retaining all his memories but having lost his feelings, his only concerns now being anything that could directly benefit him physically or feed his intense drive to hunt.

"He's definitely different," Jo offered from where she stood next to Tasha. "He's pretty cold."

"But he still risked his life to save us more than once," Tasha interjected, again the only one coming to Sam's defense. "And we never would have gotten Dean back if it hadn't been for him."

It occurred to Dean that Bobby hadn't informed Tasha that Sam was the reason he had been infected by the succubus to start with and he opted to keep that secret for now. He listened as Bobby explained that Crowley had pretty much put out an all-points-bulletin on the Winchesters, and possibly on the rest of the gang too, and that his house was off limits for the foreseeable future. Since Dean was the only one who had the Enokian carvings on his ribs hiding him from angels and demons both, the rest of them were now carrying hex bags. Dean nodded as he took it all in but his mind was distracted by one single thought.

Sam's soul was in Purgatory. Worse-than-Hell Purgatory! His little brother was in freaking _Purgatory_.

"We have to get his soul back," he blurted, half way through Bobby's explanation of their narrow escape from Singer Salvage. He looked up at them all and shook his head. "I know what it's like for your soul to be hell," he explained fervently. "And if Purgatory's even worse..." He swallowed, his voice growing strained. "We HAVE to get his soul back." There was an intense pause as they all stared back at him. "And Cas's grace," he added, giving his newly human friend a quick nod. "We can't leave them there. We have to get them back ... _now_."

"Alright then," Bobby said with a shrug just as Sam strolled back into the barn with a large take-out bag and started handing out burgers. "How do you propose we go about gettin' 'em back?"

Dean saw his brother roll his eyes , clearly not too thrilled about the current topic or plan of action. _Fucking cold bastard doesn't want his soul back._

They ate while trying to decide what the next move was. Dean sat himself on a single stool a distance away from anyone else, still avoiding unnecessary eye contact with Cas and Bobby and especially Tasha. He would deal with what he had done soon enough - beg her forgiveness and make it up to her somehow - but right now Sam was his priority. Right now his brother was suffering worse torment than Dean had been subjected to in hell. _Christ - could it even get any worse?_ He certainly couldn't imagine anything worse. But then again, he never could have imagined hell until he found himself there being torn apart in every way possible.

"Even if we got our hands on the Purgatory gate spell and an Alpha's blood," Bobby was saying, "We just can't open a door and _hope_   Sam's soul and Cas's grace tumble out. It's a big place and they ain't in there alone."

"We'll cross that hurdle when we get to it," Dean answered around his burger. _Damn, he was hungry._ As part succubus, it had been a different hunger pulling at him and he hadn't bothered to eat actual food since Delaware a day and a half ago. "First things first. We find Crowley to get the spell and the Colt. Once we have the Colt, we got a way to kill an Alpha. Dad said that gun can kill anything, remember? No doubt Crowley used it to kill the Daeva Alpha to open that first gate."

Bobby was still frowning, not looking very convinced. "That means we gotta bag ourselves an Alpha."

Dean just nodded, his face determined. "Then we bag ourselves an Alpha." He tossed his wrapper in the empty take-out bag and rose to his feet. "We're getting Sam's soul outta that place."

His younger brother who had been quiet up to this point let out a faint snort. "Dude, I'm fine the way I am. I helped get you back, didn't I? I saved their asses a few times too." He waved his hand at the others in the barn. " I'm sharper, faster, better. I'm on your side and I'm fine."

Dean suppressed a snarl. "You are so far from fine you don't even know it. We're getting your soul back, end of story."

Within minutes, they were all on their weary feet and heading out to the three cars. Sam had suggested they get the Campbells to contact Crowley for them but Dean refused, insisting they couldn't trust Samuel not to tip Crowley off. The decision was made to go straight to Crowley's house again. Dean announced in an authoritative tone that his brother was riding in the Impala with him where he could keep an eye on him and the rest of them were to follow in the other two cars. Nobody argued with him and Cas was silently thankful that the impressed thoughts going through his head at Dean's natural leadership abilities and take-charge disposition no longer included anything of a sexual nature.

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

"So you remember being Sam but you don't feel anything he felt?" Dean blurted after two hours of driving in silence.

Sam just nodded. "That about sums it up."

"So you don't care about me? Don't care that I'm your brother? Your _family?"_

Sam just shrugged, not looking overly apologetic.

"And you're admitting that you practically handed me to that succubus." That wasn't posed as a question.

"I didn't have to. You did that yourself. Just because she was a woman and she was naked, you let your guard down," Sam pointed out evenly. "That was stupid and weak, dude."

Dean clenched his teeth but didn't argue. That part was kind of true, he had to admit. He should have tried to kill the succubus posing as a distraught woman the second he came into that room. He had known he was in a building full of monsters. "Okay, then _why_   did you want me to become a monster?" he challenged.

"I didn't," Sam denied calmly. "I just thought that if you were infected, you would be able to lead us to the Alpha." He leaned back and stretched out his long legs as much as he could under the dash. "I knew Samuel would have a cure," he lied. "I didn't think you'd give in to the succubus influence so quickly and try to kill your own girlfriend," he added, knowing Dean's weakness was his overabundance of guilt and preying on it.

The comment hit Dean like a punch in the gut and he fell silent for a few minutes, wallowing in guilt just as Sam had intended.

"So why did you rescue everyone back at Bobby's if you don't care?" Dean finally ventured. He decided the subject of Tasha was off limits because his stomach twisted and knotted in literal pain every time he thought of what he had done to her, the memory of that night in the garage still painfully fresh and vivid, not to mention his sexual escapades since then.

Sam shrugged again, his face impassive. "I don't have a lot of feeling, Dean, but I still remember. I know they're my friends and they care about me. Cas may be human but he has an angel's knowledge and that's a valuable resource. Tasha's a little hellraiser with a knife and she's pretty much the only one left who I know will still have my back. And Bobby's a walking Wikipedia of hunting information and hunter contacts; look how many times he's saved our asses over the years." His mouth spread into a wide grin. "And Jo, well, Jo's ... flexible."

Dean's mouth dropped open and he almost slammed the brakes on as anger boiled up inside him. "You didn't!" he seethed, fighting to keep the car straight on the road. "Tell me you didn't!"

Sam just smiled.

"Oh you are all kinds of asshole!" Dean shouted, his fists clenched around the steering wheel so tight his knuckles were white

"Hey, she was willing," Sam defended. "I'm soulless, not dickless, and if you hadn't been with Tasha, you would have been all over that by now so don't you spout your righteous bullshit at me."

Dean just stared at him for a long moment before shaking his head and turning back to the road. He pursed his lips and pressed his foot down on the accelerator, his need to get to Crowley's increasing exponentially with every passing second. He was now more determined than ever to get Sam's soul back. This thing sitting next to him was not his brother.

~x~x~x~x~x~x~

When Dean had curtly announced the driving arrangements and climbed into the Impala without so much as a goodbye smile or a nod of acknowledgement to Tasha, Cas had noticed the stricken look on the young woman's face. He immediately moved over towards her car, making it clear he intended to keep her company on the long drive to Crowley's house in Lincoln, Nebraska. Bobby opted to go with Ellen and after a slight hesitation, Jo made the surprising choice of riding with Tasha and Cas.

Tash was quiet for the first few hours, Cas sitting silently in the shotgun seat and Jo snoozing in the back. They were just outside of Illinois when the brunette pulled sharply over onto the gravel shoulder, earning her curious looks from both her passengers.

Tasha just threw the car in park and stepped out, walking briskly around to Cas's side and opening up his door.

"It's about time you learned how to drive, Feathers," she grinned at him, pulling him out and directing him firmly around to the driver's side.

Cas was startled at the suggestion and surprisingly nervous at the endeavor but he knew better than to argue with Tasha when she was in one of her bossy moods. Besides, he knew her well and although she had not spoken since the Maryland border, he knew she was hurting over everything that had happened with Dean. When she was hurting, she tended to deal by distracting herself. If teaching him how to operate a vehicle got her mind off her internal anguish, then he would gladly oblige.

Jo sat up and watched the instruction session with amusement, adding her own pointers every now and again. Luckily, the Challenger was an automatic transmission and within a few minutes, Cas was pulling back onto the highway, giving a sheepish grin at the squeal of tires and the sudden swerve to the right he had to make to avoid a pick-up truck and straighten back up in his own lane. It irked him that he actually had to concentrate to perform this mundane human task but allowed himself to feel some enjoyment and a sense of accomplishment as he was soon purring along the highway amid the surrounding traffic.

The mood seemed to lighten considerably and Jo leaned forward with her arms on the back of the seat, her chin resting on her hands. "So, Cas," she smirked, "What's with you and Bobby and Dean? I noticed you guys won't look each other in the eye."

Cas shifted uncomfortably in the seat, not wanting to repeat the thoughts that had been going through his head after succubus-Dean had touched him.

But Tasha was now grinning at him also, her face alight with that teasing look he had once found so familiar and had missed since her memories of their years together had been lost. The sight encouraged him.

"Bobby and I were caught under the succubus spell for a brief time," he admitted.

"Oh God," Tasha buried her face in her hands. "Please tell me you and Dean didn't do anything," she groaned.

"No. No, certainly not," Cas denied quickly, feeling his cheeks flush.

Jo spoke up again, her face curled up in distaste. "Oh gross ... tell me _Bobby_ and Dean didn't..."

"No," Cas said with an uncomfortable huff. "Nothing happened. Sam was unaffected by physical contact so he was able to subdue Dean. It would seem there is one advantage to him having no soul."

He gave Jo a quick glance as he answered her question and noticed her lips tighten at the comment about Sam. Tasha must have noticed it too for she turned in her seat to face the young blonde.

"Hey Jo," she said quietly. "If you don't mind me asking, did something happen between you and Sam?"

Jo blushed and nodded as she sat back in the seat again. Cas glanced in the rear-view mirror and caught the sad expression on her face.

"So was this before..." Tasha led.

Jo shook her head. "No. It was after Purgatory and he just got right up afterwards and walked out. Said _'we should do this again sometime'_. Said I was worth a repeat performance."

Tasha's mouth almost dropped open. "Ouch," she sympathized. "So that's what that witch was talking about. I'm sorry."

Cas stole glances at Tasha as she spoke, his heart lifting slightly at what he was seeing. She wasn't one to make friends easily. In the five years he had spent with her raising Dean's children, she had only befriended two people other than him, the elderly woman whose house they were living in and a socially outcast veteran of the Vietnam War who lived a few houses down. She hadn't yet shown any signs of developing a real friendship with either of the Harvelles but he thought he recognized the start of one now. There was genuine concern for Jo in her voice.

"We'll get his soul back," she continued. "He's a good guy, you know. A _great_   guy, actually. You and him... "

Jo shook her head vigorously. "There's no me and him," she said abruptly. "I just want to forget the whole thing ever happened."

"If I regain my angel powers, I can help you with that," Cas offered, thinking it would be polite to join the conversation.

Tasha snickered at him. "Cas, you can't just go mind-wiping people. We need our memories, even our bad ones. It's part of who we are."

He gave her a sad look. "Yes, I wish you had all the memories I did," he said truthfully.

He regretted the comment almost immediately when her face tensed and she shifted uncomfortably. He sighed, wondering if he would ever understand the complicated nuances of human interaction. He figured he should apologize for whatever he had done wrong, since he had learned fairly quickly that with Tasha, any rebuke was lessened if he apologized, even when he didn't know what he was apologizing for. Dean had laughed heartily when Cas had told him of his discovery and the hunter had explained that this was typical of all women. Cas opened his mouth to say 'I'm sorry' but Jo spoke up first, effectively rescuing him.

"Hey, wanna see my knife collection?" she asked cheerily. "I got half of it right here."

She dragged a duffle from the floor up onto the seat and opened it up. Within minutes, the two girls were passing knives back and forth and the remainder of the trip was spent deep in conversation about Jo's apparently impressive knifes and battles they had each won with a blade. Cas joined in by pulling out his angel dagger, enthralling both of the women with the story of how Tasha had actually used it to take out an angel in an attempt to protect her children.

He only got yelled at a few times for swerving to the other side of the road while distracted by the conversation but in the end, managed to get them to Crowley's house safely. As they pulled up behind the Impala and Ellen's Jeep, he wasn't sure how to take Jo's teasing comment that he was 'just like one of the girls'.

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

They parked half a block away on a very quiet dead-end residential street. Bobby dragged himself out of Ellen's driver's seat, stiff and still tired despite catching a few hours of sleep as they crossed Iowa. Dean and Sam were getting out of the Impala parked up ahead and he couldn't help feel a little relief they were both still breathing. Sam had already sacrificed Dean once and the look on Dean's face made it clear he didn't see the tall hunter with the shaggy hair and the hazel eyes as his brother right now.

The Challenger pulled up behind them and Bobby raised an eyebrow seeing Cas behind the wheel. The car jerked a little when the ex-angel applied the brakes too sharply and one wheel ended up on the curb and the two young women were laughing as they got out. Tasha patted Cas's arm and was still smiling as she took her keys back from him and Bobby was pleased to see that the forced distance the guarded young woman had been keeping between her and every non-Winchester member of the group had seemingly lessened.

As Tasha, Jo and Cas approached him and Ellen, the brunette looked right past him and Bobby looked up to see her catch Dean's eye. Dean gave her a quick, forced smile and turned away, presumably to start digging in the Impala's trunk. The older hunter glanced back to see Tasha's face fall and her jaw stiffen, her brown eyes darken with sadness. It would seem even though her relationships with the Harvelles and Cas were getting better, things with Dean were now understandably strained. Bobby sighed and decided to make a point of having a chat with the pair later. Talking things out wasn't exactly Dean's strong suit, a legacy he had been handed by John Winchester, the king of repressed emotions.

Within minutes, the group was armed up and ready to break into Crowley's large mansion again. Dean took charge, as he had been doing of late, without opposition. He held up his can of paint. "Don't be stingy," he said before taking the lead in the final approach to the mansion. He decided they should split up as soon as they had taken out the guard, who had been alone and distracted by a rerun of Baywatch in the small guardhouse. He gave Tasha Ruby's knife and ordered her to stay with Bobby and Cas. Dean kept both Harvelles with him and just shrugged when Sam volunteered to go out on his own, mumbling something about not trusting the younger hunter to watch anyone's backs anyway.

The lack of security this time round made it seem likely the boss wasn't home. This was disappointing since they figured Crowley would probably be keeping the Colt on him, but they decided to search the house anyway, room by room. They only found one more 'guard', the term applying loosely since the demon wearing the meatsuit of an attractive man in his twenties was found naked and watching TV in the master bedroom.

"Huh," Bobby grumbled after Tasha stuck Ruby's knife between his well-sculpted abs. "Seems Crowley's got a taste for the pretty boys."

Tasha let out a snort and grinned. "I could have told you that," she told the pair searching the house with her. "You should have seen the way he was eyeing Cas when he had him in that circle of flames."

Cas frowned. "He was?"

"Oh yeah. Definitely. Don't you know when you're being ogled, Cas?"

Despite the uncomfortable subject matter, Cas returned her smile, her teasing tone familiar and welcome. They finished the upstairs and headed back down as everybody began to regroup in the mansion's large front hall. Sam was already there and Dean and Jo entered from the opulent dining room on the left.

"Well lookie here," came a sneering voice in an English accent from behind Dean, who spun around and raised his shotgun in one smooth motion. "You chuckleheads just don't learn, do you?"

It was Crowley, standing in the doorway between the hall and the dining room. He ignored the shotgun aimed at him and tilted his head at Sam.

"One trip to Purgatory wasn't enough for you?" he taunted before looking around the room at each of them in turn. "I see you brought the whole gang this time." His grin widened when his eyes fell on Cas. "And you brought the empty vessel along!"

His gaze returned to Dean. "Feeling sentimental were you?"

Dean scowled. "Quit the monologuing you pompous douchebag," he growled, not correcting the demon's mistaken assumption that Cas was gone and just Jimmy Novak remained. An empty vessel with no information had far less value than a powerless angel with all the secrets of Heaven intact. "We're here for the Colt."

Crowley looked amused but definitely not scared. He reached into his jacket and pulled out an intricately carved Colt Paterson revolver. Every hunter in the room tensed with excitement.

"You wouldn't be referring to _this_ Colt, would you?" Crowley smirked. "Now what on God's green earth makes you think I would give you a weapon that could potentially kill me?"

Dean, standing the closest, returned the demon's cocky smirk. "To make the world a better place," he offered.

Crowley didn't reply; he simply turned the gun towards Dean and fired. Dean felt a sharp pain and heard Tasha scream as he fell to the floor. His brain was just registering that he had been shot when his eyes fixed on Tasha across the room, rushing over towards him, her eyes wide with terror. His hand moved instinctively to the source of pain, somewhere near his left shoulder, when he heard Crowley's voice again and saw Tasha freeze in her tracks.

"Nobody moves a muscle!" the demon hollered. Dean felt someone behind him and as he turned to look at Crowley, he realized Jo was on her knees next to him, her hands tugging at his as she tried to get a good look at the wound. He moved his hand away to let her and looked past her to see Crowley standing there with the Colt aimed right at Dean's head.

Well now it was clear why everybody had stopped. He wanted to say something snarky, make some smart ass comment to the King of Hell, but the pain in his chest and the difficulty he was having drawing breath wouldn't let him think of one.

Crowley looked right at Tasha, who was standing motionless in the middle of the room with her hands splayed out to each side, Ruby's knife grasped tightly in her right. "One more step and I finish him off," the demon warned. "Not so mouthy now, are you Chica?" he gloated, winking at Tasha. "Want your old cell back? Maybe I'll give you a roommate this time."

Dean didn't hear his own groaning as he struggled to sit up, not liking that Crowley's attention was currently on Tash. Jo was half-fighting him and half-helping him, clearly annoyed at his refusal to play the obedient patient. She had her thin jacket off and balled up and was trying to press it against Dean's shoulder. Dean swatted her hand away but accepted the jacket, grimacing at the amount of blood already discoloring it.

"You bastard," he managed between heavy breaths and grunts of pain as he made it to his knees. "Why all the fucking games? Why not just kill me?"

Thankfully, Dean's ploy was successful in returning Crowley's attention to him.

The demon clucked noisily at him, shaking his head. "Am I going to have to explain this every time we meet, Dean? Clean the muck out of your ears. If I kill you, the sodding angels will just bring you back. So I have to be more creative in figuring out how to dispose of you and the flipping sasquatch you call brother." He pointed to Sam with an uncomplimentary eyeroll. "Although I have to say, you're making it easy showing up on my doorstep. Truly, I'm touched. You practically gift-wrapped yourselves for me and it's not even my birthday."

Suddenly a loud blast rang out and Crowley's face scrunched up in pain. He spun around to reveal Ellen standing behind him with a shotgun held high. His lips curled into a snarl as he raised his hand to no-doubt send Ellen flying with his demon powers. She fired off another round square into the demon's chest but it had no effect and Ellen went flying, slamming into a wall as her shotgun clattered to the floor a few feet away.

Before Crowley could turn back around, however, Sam had launched himself at him, barrelling into him and sending him sprawling onto the throw rug on the expensive marble floor of the main hall. Crowley let out a low growl but didn't fight back as Sam got off him. Instead he just blinked, then blinked again and then once more. His face pulled into a furious scowl as the realization clearly hit him that he was powerless. He kicked the carpet away from beneath him to see the painted black lines of a devil's trap.

Sam let out a hollow laugh. "You demons never learn."

The trapped demon pursed his lips but managed to keep his cool impressively well as he straightened his jacket and looked around the room. "That better not be permanent paint," he said coolly. "That flooring's $800 a square foot."

Tasha was already on her knees at Dean's side and Bobby stepped into the dining room to check on Ellen. Dean held up his hand to hold Tasha off. He didn't have time right now to be fretted over or to give in to the pain and weakness he was feeling. His brother's soul was at stake and Crowley was their only chance at getting it back.

"I'm good, I'm good," he insisted, getting stiffly to his feet, Jo's jacket now more red than the pale blue it had been. He winced and pressed it harder against his shoulder, knowing already this was not just a little flesh wound. He sucked up the pain and scooped the Colt off the floor before turning to Crowley. "Alright you sonofabitch," he growled, his voice breathless and raspy. He aimed the revolver right at the demon's chest, trying to keep his arm from shaking too noticeably. "Give me the spell for opening a gate to purgatory or I return the favor."

Crowley was unable to hide his surprise at the unexpected demand. "The spell?  Why would you simpletons want to open your own gate?"

"The spell!" Dean bellowed, his hand shaking and beads of sweat forming on his forehead. "Now!"

Crowley folded his arms across his chest. "Do your worst, Winchester," he sneered. "Just be aware that killing the King of Hell will not go down well with its constituents. You think you can avoid every single topside demon for long? Not to mention..."

Sam had been silent up to this point, his eyes focused on the captured demon and his forehead wrinkled in thought. "Dean, wait," he said suddenly, stepping forward and right into the painted devil's trap with Crowley. He proceeded to pat the demon down, searching his jacket and finally pulling out a folded piece of paper from an inside pocket.

He unfolded it and looked at it briefly. "It's Enokian," he said handing the handwritten sheet of paper to Cas.

The ex-angel stared down at the paper for a few seconds before nodding. "This is it. This is the spell."

Dean concentrated on staying on his feet as he raised the Colt again to Crowley's chest with a smug grin. "Looks like your reign is over asshat." He was just about to squeeze the trigger, to rid the world of the smarmy but dangerous King of Hell once and for all but before he could shoot, Crowley simply disappeared.

_Fucking demon just vanished into thin air._

"Where did he go? " Cas exclaimed, looking around with a bewilderment they were all feeling.

"Better question is _how?"_   Bobby growled, moving forward to examine the devil's trap he himself had painted under the rug when they had first entered the house. "It ain't broken. He shouldn't have been able to get out."

He was answered with the sound of Dean collapsing to the floor behind him, the Colt clattering on the expensive marble tiles. Tasha immediately dropped to his side, calling his name over and over and checking his pulse, her voice thick with worry and fear. Dean's eyes were closed and his head lolled sideways at her touch.

Bobby hustled over and squatted next to the unconscious hunter, not liking the pale color of his face or the sheer volume of red on Jo's bloodsoaked jacket. "Idjit," he mumbled in his worry as he moved the jacket out of his way and tore open Dean's t-shirt to get a better look at the wound itself.

"Oh balls," he breathed, hearing Tasha's panicked gasp at the sight of the exposed bullet wound. It wasn't a shoulder shot as he had assumed. It was closer to the chest. The bullet had entered just a few inches above Dean's heart. Bobby slid a hand underneath the injured hunter, hoping to find an exit would but the skin of Dean's back was smooth and unmarred. "The bullet's still in there," he said quietly, giving Tasha an apologetic look as she hovered next to him, her eyes begging for some assurance Dean would be fine.

He couldn't give it to her. He just shook his head. "This is beyond me," he said, loud enough for everyone to hear. "Boy needs a hospital ... and fast."

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**


	15. Wounds Not So Easily Healed

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

As soon as he had lowered his brother into the back seat of the Impala, Sam lifted the spare set of keys to Tasha's Dodge out of Dean's pocket and disappeared in the Challenger without a word to anyone. Not that anyone was paying attention as their worries were solely focussed on Dean at this point. Jo got behind the wheel of the black Chevy with Cas in the passenger seat while Ellen followed in her car. Bobby had hopped onto the Impala's seat next to the unconscious hunter and Tasha squeezed herself onto the floor next to the seat so they could at least partially lie him down. Between the two of them, they kept pressure on the wound and managed to stem the blood flow.

Despite their efforts, Dean's face was pale and his breathing was coming in shallow, raspy pants. His pulse was weakening by the minute and nobody spoke as Jo pressed the accelerator to the floor and raced through the city traffic. He awoke only once in the ten minute drive, his eyes glazed over as he blinked them up at Bobby, who had his head cradled in his lap.

"S'my," he mumbled. "D'w gt clt?"

Bobby nodded, knowing from instinct what the question was rather than actually being able to discern the words. "Yeah, we got the Colt. Sam's fine. It's you we're worried about."

"G'tta get...hs soul, B'by."

"We will," Bobby assured him, his heart filling with both love and a deep sadness that Dean was an inch or two from dying and his thoughts were still focussed on his little brother. He resisted the urge to stroke the younger man's head for comfort.

Tasha, on the other hand, felt no need for such resistance and her fingers cupping his cheek drew the unfocussed hazel eyes from Bobby to her worried face.

"Tash," he said weakly, his voice but a whisper. "Mm S'ry."

"It's fine," she assured him, dismissing the apology. "Just hang in there and try to stay awake, okay?" She intertwined her fingers with those of his closest hand and smiled at him. "We'll be at the hospital in a couple of minutes."

Dean's eyes flitted to the back of the driver's blonde head and his eyebrows pulled into a half-hearted frown. "Jo's drvin' m'car," he grumbled, getting an encouraged laugh out of Tasha. It didn't last long though when the hunter's face twisted in pain and a low moan escaped him. The fight to stay awake was being played out on his face and his eyes fell back on the brunette kneeling on the floor next to him.

"If..if..." Dean's eyes closed for a second but he managed to stave off unconsciousness for a few more seconds and they opened again. "If I ... S'my... please ... can't leave hs soul...worse than Hell...pl'se..." And with that he was out.

Tasha tried to rouse him again gently but with no luck. She wasn't aware of the steady procession of tears streaming down her cheeks as she held her breath and silently waited for an answer from Bobby, who had two fingers pressed into the side of Dean's neck again in search of a pulse. The older hunter closed his eyes and exhaled deeply, giving Tasha a reassuring nod just as Jo pulled into the emergency lane at the Lincoln General Hospital.

The blonde hunter jumped out and shouted loudly in through the front doors for help. Within seconds, a gurney was brought out and ER personnel were wheeling the patient away, leaving the rest of them reeling with both fear and relief, blood all over their clothes as they stood in the emergency room doors with shell-shocked, stunned looks on their faces.

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

Bobby shifted uncomfortably in the hard, plastic chair of the hospital waiting room. It had been over six hours since Dean had been wheeled away to surgery and still no word. On top of his frayed nerves and anxiousness, his back was aching and his sciatic nerve was killing him. He stretched his legs out in front of him and leaned back, rubbing the painful crick in his neck for a moment before slumping back down to look around the room.

Cas was slumped in one of the plastic chairs across the room with his head tipped back and his mouth hanging open, gentle snores escaping on his exhales. He had barely said two words since they had arrived here but Bobby had noticed him in the first hours, clenching and unclenching his fist and staring repeatedly at his hand as if trying to _will_   his healing powers back into it. It wasn't hard to tell where the ex-angel's thoughts lay as he waited helplessly with the others on word about his friends.

Sam, currently posing as Special Agent Ulrich, was nowhere to be seen. He had fortuitously shown up just seconds after the patient in O.R. number four had been brought in and had managed to intercept the mandatory report the hospital had to file for gunshot wounds and Bobby couldn't help but be impressed by the kid's quick-thinking and forethought. He'd even taken the time to change into the damn suit. Guess that's what happens when you don't have to deal with worry or concern for someone else's life hanging in the wind. Where he had gone now was anyone's guess. Bobby had no doubt he was off sulking somewhere because the distrustful older hunter hadn't let him get his hands on the Colt, which was safely tucked inside Bobby's vest. Either that or he was screwing some nurse in some supply closet. It seemed Soulless Sam was two things: a damn sharp hunter and a walking hormone. Bobby's eyes instinctively sought out Jo for reassurance she wasn't the cold bastard's closet-mate. He saw her sleeping curled up on the vinyl bench seat at the far end of the room and breathed a sigh of relief.

Good. Bobby didn't particularly feel like having to shoot one Winchester while the other was still getting a bullet dug out of him.

He finished his sweep of the room to find Tasha still standing at the door to the corridor where they had rolled Dean away, staring through the glass window for any sign of incoming information or a status update. She hadn't moved from that spot since they had arrived here. She had spoken a few hushed words to Sam at one point but hadn't opened up to the rest of the group enough yet to seek comfort in their company. Bobby wasn't blind; he could see the depth of her feelings for Dean from a mile away and watching her now, he felt a sudden obligation to do something about it. Dean would want him to.

He sighed and rose to his feet, walking slowly over to stand at her side just as Ellen returned from her cafeteria run with three coffees and came to stand by the younger woman also.

Bobby wasn't all that surprised to see Tasha's eyes were wet and looked discretely away as she wiped them quickly with her sleeve when she found herself flanked by the older pair.

"Sorry," she mumbled quietly. "Rough week." Her voice hitched. "Fuck."

A single snort of laughter escaped Bobby. "Yep, you could say that."

He looked over at the slim brunette, not liking what he was seeing. Her face was pale and drawn and layers of tear streaks had made tracks through the dried smear of Dean's blood that had found its way there during the car ride over. Her hands were trembling and her eyes taking just a bit too long to focus, a clear sign of fatigue. Girl needed to sit down. She had barely recovered from her bout with the succubus.

"He has to be alright," she murmured, giving the older man next to her a quick, pleading look, as if he could do anything to help Dean at this point. "He just got cured. I mean he gets sliced by a Daeva, then his brother and his best friend almost die, then I get kidnapped, then he gets bitten by a succubus, then this..." She gestured towards the double doors in front of them. "It's just not fair. He doesn't deserve all of this." Her eyes were fixed on the empty corridor ahead. "And not like this," she said in barely more than a whisper. "Not now, with things so..." She let the sentence trail off.

Ellen frowned as she studied the younger woman for a long minute. "If there's one thing I've figured out over the past few years," she said finally. "It's that being with a hunter is a hard gig. But when that hunter is Dean Winchester ... well, _hard_   doesn't even begin to cover it."

Bobby nodded in sad agreement. "And it definitely won't ever get any easier. That boy's never seen a stitch of good luck his whole life."

Tasha just swallowed and nodded, still wringing her hands together in front of her to keep them from trembling too obviously. Bobby watched her for a moment, wondering when he had become so used to having the Winchester boys cheat death (and not always without dying), that it had become par for the course. He remembered how gutted he felt watching Sam die in his brother's arms and how terrified he was when the pair of them showed up at his house alive and well a day later. He remembered falling to pieces and diving into a bottle after Dean had gone to Hell. He wasn't willing to go through that again so nope, he simply refused to believe Dean was dying today.

But Tasha was relatively new to this game. 'New' in the sense that she had only lost Dean once before. She usually seemed so calm and collected and guarded but that wasn't the case right now. She looked pale and shaken and on the verge of breaking down as she continued to stare down the empty corridor.

Ellen's train of thought must have been travelling similar tracks for she lifted an arm and rubbed a gentle circle on the girl's back. "You sure you're up for it?" she asked curiously, no judgement showing in her tone "For this kind of life, I mean? With a Winchester?"

Tasha threw her a defiant look. "Of course!" she nodded vigorously. "I'll take him whatever way I can get him; I don't care what fucked up shit comes with him." She sighed and returned her gaze through the window in the double doors. "I can't imagine my life without him anymore," she added quietly. "I'd deal with Crowley and Purgatory and end-of-the-world crap every single day if it meant I'd be with him at the end of it all."

Bobby just nodded in silent approval. That was pretty much how he had felt just one short week after a young John Winchester had shown up on his doorstep, hurt and weary with two little rugrats in tow; one quiet and fiercely protective of his baby brother and the other smiley and cheery and curious to a fault. He squeezed her shoulder in a comforting gesture. "Well, I guess his luck ain't all bad after all," he said warmly. "I reckon he did alright findin' you."

Tasha was saved from responding to the heartfelt compliment by the appearance of a doctor in a blue set of surgical scrubs coming towards them down the hall. The three hunters backed up just enough for the doctor to push the doors open and step out into the waiting room.

"Are any of you here with Dean Ulrich?" he asked.

"Yes," came five replies in unison because at the appearance of the doctor, Cas and Jo had both jumped to their feet and were hurrying over to join the group huddled at the doorway.

The doctor smiled. "Well, I have good news," he told them.

He explained how the bullet had struck Mr. Ulrich below the clavicle, between the first and the second ribs from the top. It missed his heart and major arteries and although there was certainly some tissue damage, the heart itself seemed to be relatively fine. There was extensive bruising and swelling in the area and even though they were able to remove all the pieces of the fragmented bullet successfully, the unsanitary condition of it had left the patient with a high risk of infection in the days to come. The biggest problem had actually been the sheer amount of blood loss Dean had sustained before making it into surgery.

"So he's gonna be fine?" Bobby blurted, taking it all in.

"Well," the doctor hesitated, "he's not out of the woods yet. As I mentioned, there is a very real risk of infection and he'll be in ICU for a couple of days at least from the transfusion."

"But he'll live?" Tasha pushed, trying to bully the reassuring words from the doctor's mouth.

"It looks promising," the doctor conceded, folding his arms across his chest and completely oblivious as to how ironic his next words were. "He's a lucky man," he told them. "The injury could have been far, far worse had the bullet been a hair to the left or farther down. Must have an angel in his corner because, barring any further complications, he could very well make a full recovery."

"Can we go see him?" Tasha asked, already taking a step towards the double doors.

The doctor moved to block her, shaking his head. "He's sleeping right now and won't wake for another few hours."

"I don't care," she replied. "Can we go see him anyway?"

The doctor pursed his lips apologetically. "Only if you're family, I'm afraid."

"She's his wife," Bobby blurted quickly. "And I'm his uncle." He pointed to Ellen and Jo. "This is his aunt and his sister and..." he looked to Cas and nodded, "... and his brother. We're all family here."

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

Dean didn't wake up for another ten hours and when he did, it wasn't for long. Tasha and Cas were in the room, the others having taken a run to the cafeteria or slipped out for a quick nap in the back seat of one of the cars. Dean's lashes fluttered and Cas tapped Tasha's shoulder and pointed. Her head jerked up just in time to see the hazel peering out from behind heavy lids.

"Dean!" She rushed to the bedside, her hands fidgeting when she realized she wasn't sure where to touch him. He had tubes going into his nose as well as an IV and a couple other wires and tubes hooked up to the noisy array on instruments at the head of the bed. She settled on the closest hand, wrapping her fingers around it gently and being careful not to disturb the IV needle. "You're awake," she gushed, no other words coming to her at that moment of sheer relief.

Dean blinked a few times. "What 'appened?" he croaked, his voice hoarse.

"You got shot," she answered bluntly, her fingers tracing a circle in the air over his covered chest to indicate where.

Deep wrinkles appeared in the hunter's forehead. "Crowley," he whispered.

Tasha nodded. "Yeah. And with the Colt, too. But the Doc says you're gonna be fine so just hang in there, okay?"

He held her gaze for a mere few seconds before blinking slowly and looking away, allowing his eyes to travel to Cas instead.

"I am glad to see you are awake," Cas told his friend, his face pulled into his usual lopsided frown. "I was worried."

"Thanks, Cas," Dean managed a fraction of a smile, his head rolling tiredly on the pillow. "Is everyone...? " He stopped to catch his breath before a determined look appeared on his face. "So we got... the Colt. And the spell... right? And every...one got out... okay?"

"Yeah," Tasha nodded, her fingertips stroking his temple.

"So we can... open a gate... to Purgatory," Dean continued.

"We can worry about that later," she scolded. "Doc says you're not outta the woods yet. You need to..."

"No," Dean cut her off, shaking his head. "We can't wait. Sam's soul. We can't... leave him in there. A month could be a decade... More even. Every minute counts."

"I get that, Dean but... Dean? Dean?"

His eyes were closed and his head rolled to the side, his breathing once again becoming slow and even. He had passed back out.  Tasha sighed in both relief and disappointment.

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

A few hours later, Tasha had finally succumbed to her fatigue and taken a turn sleeping in the back seat of her Challenger, still parked in the quiet parking lot. She was shocked to wake up and find out she had been out for over four hours and quickly ran a hand through her hair, swallowed some toothpaste, and hurried back up to Dean's room. She could hear voices as she approached and her heart skipped a beat when a weak, hoarse one drifted out the door - music to her ears.

_Dean was awake again._

Her pace picked up but she stopped just short of the open door frame and paused, a deep, gravelly reply giving her pause.

_"You're going to have to talk to her, Dean. You can't just keep avoiding her."_

_"I know that, Cas. But every time I look at her I just see what I did to her. I can't get it out of my head. I just...I just can't stand to be anywhere near her right now. I wish I didn't have to see her face; the way she looks at me. I screwed up, Cas. She was my chance and I blew it."_

Tasha swallowed and leaned against the wall just outside the door, Dean's words tearing at her insides. Chance at what? Peace? Happiness? Kids?

" _I almost killed her,"_ Dean continued _. "I hate myself every time I even think of her; think of what I did to her. God, I tried to kill her. I..."_

_"That wasn't your doing. That was the succubus venom. She knows that."_

_"But it's more than that. The whole situation, what I became... that's my life. That's always gonna be my life. I had one month of peace. One month was all I could wrangle for her. She doesn't deserve **this**_ _but **this** is all I can offer her. Fuck, Cas, I don't deserve her."_

 _"I disagree."_ Cas's voice was calm and even but held a softer edge than usual. _"You deserve to have some happiness. What you don't deserve is this life of constant strife and loss destiny has given you. In my years with Tasha and your children, I began to understand the appeal of the peaceful life that part of you craves, Dean. Yet given the option to walk away and to have that, here you are, once again standing at the front of the lines, leading the charge if you will. **This** is who you are. And **this** is who she loves." _

Still eavesdropping, Tasha realized she shouldn't be surprised at how well Cas seemed to know her. After all, Dean was always reminding her that she and Cas were close friends in that other timeline. It still creeped her out a little, but she had to admit she was grateful to him now for arguing her case.

" _Perhaps you can have a bit of both worlds,"_ Cas ventured. _"In any case, you shouldn't be so quick to discard the few good things you do have. Just talk to her."_

There was a long pause.

_"Let's get Sammy back and then I'll deal with it, okay?"_

_"You aren't fit to go anywhere yet, Dean. I read the doctor's chart."_

_"Cas, I'm not leaving him down there a minute longer than I have to. You know what it was like for me in Hell ... what happened. I can't stomach the thought of Sam going through that. I just can't. I can't."_

Tasha remained silent and tipped her head back against the wall in the hallway, fighting the sting of tears. She had never quite understood the strange bond Dean seemed to share with Cas, had never been quite sure how to define it. He trusted the angel that he had known for barely a year with the same completeness he did Sam. She had figured out that in the months following his return from the pit, Dean had seen Cas as his saviour, and in a way far more profound than simply being the physical hand that pulled him from Hell. Cas's belief and trust in him when the angel turned on his kind to help Dean had been a sort of redemption for the despairing hunter, a sign he could be forgiven for all he had done in Hell after getting off the rack and taking up Alistair's scalpel. In a way, the honesty and depth of feeling Dean was able to express with Cas when the two shared some time alone surpassed that he had with her or even with Sam. He had a tendency to look to Cas for answers despite the fact the angel was usually the most naïve of the group. To Tasha, it was almost as if he saw Cas the way a man of great faith would look to his priest. His spiritual support.

Maybe that had something to do with her resistance to befriend the angel, she realized somewhat shamefully. Maybe she was just jealous.

Bobby suddenly appeared around the corner and threw her a nod and a smile as he walked past and entered the room. Tasha let out a deep breath and turned to follow, stepping in to see Bobby striding quickly over to the bed with a growl. He laid a hand on the rising hunter's shoulder and pushed him back down.

"Git back down, y'idjit!" he snapped.

"I gotta get up, Bobby," Dean rasped, too weak to offer any real resistance. "We gotta get Sam's soul back."

Bobby let out a loud snort. "You can barely sit up! You just got shot in the chest! You had half your blood pumped into you from friggin' little plastic bags! You ain't doin' shit, son, but sittin' here on your ass and gettin' better, you hear me?"

Tasha hid a smile. She liked Bobby. Dean was stubborn and determined but he almost always backed down when Bobby let him have it. Maybe it was reflective of the complete hold his father had over him or maybe it was simply out of sheer respect, but it always seemed to work.

"Yes, sir," he croaked.

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

Dean avoided eye contact with her during the discussion that followed about how he was feeling and Bobby's assurances that they would see to saving Sam soon enough. Tasha didn't push the issue, still hurt over his private admission that the mere sight of her caused him pain, and she simply sat quietly in a chair at the far end of the bed. Dean was still weak and frail-looking and didn't put up much of an argument with Bobby, who tactfully skirted the patient's question of Sam's current whereabouts.

 _Had Sam not been in to see Dean yet?_   Tasha felt another flicker of doubt about her decision to trust the younger Winchester but swallowed it quickly. He had helped them all, including Dean.

Cas and Bobby only waited a few minutes before making painfully obvious excuses to exit, leaving Tasha and Dean alone together.  She didn't miss the traitorous look Dean threw the departing men and knew he was not pleased at the prospect. He was saved, however, by the doctor, who showed up just as Bobby and Cas were heading out the door.

The doctor immediately started checking Dean's IV's and adjusting things here and there, explaining to the pair in the room what he was doing and what Dean could expect in the coming days as he moved about the bed. At some point during his ministrations, Dean's eyes drifted closed and his breathing slowed. The doctor must have noticed the brunette's look of disappointment for he gave her a sympathetic smile.

Not sure if Dean's sudden slumber was real or not, Tasha decided not to call him on it either way. She addressed the doctor quietly. "Is there anything we can do for him? He's still so weak."

"Sorry," he answered her politely with a shake of the head. "His body suffered a substantial trauma. He just needs time to recover."

They were interrupted by Ellen and Jo showing up at the door, the pair of them not hiding their disappointment that the injured hunter was sleeping once more. They settled into the empty chairs and Ellen started grilling the doctor with questions. Tasha took the opportunity to slip out into the hallway, a sudden need to be alone overcoming her.

Her escape was short-lived, however, for Bobby found her less than ten minutes later, huddled in a plastic chair in the waiting room for the ultrasound department. He sat down next to her with a long, tired sigh.

"How you holdin'up, darlin'?"

"He won't even look at me," she blurted, her worries tumbling out of her mouth before she could rein them in.

The older hunter nodded slowly in understanding.

"I know he feels bad but it wasn't his fault," she continued. "Why can't he see that?"

A small huff of laughter escaped Bobby. "Darlin', that boy eats, breathes, and sleeps guilt. When it comes to people he cares about, he don't forgive easy. Especially himself."

She leaned forward and dropped her forehead into her hands. Tasha was aware of Dean's tendency to heap undue blame on his shoulders but had never understood it. She had nursed plenty of guilt about being the cause of her own father's death but had never wallowed in it. "No human can resist the succubus venom. He's not to blame. Nobody blames him."

"Dean's got his own way of seeing things," Bobby explained. "I figure it's his daddy's fault, really. Poor kid never thought he measured up. See, John loved his boys but he had impossible standards. Sam challenged his daddy every chance he got and never took it to heart if he fell short of the man's unfair expectations. But Dean, well he just tried his damnedest to not let either of them down."

Tasha let out a snort. Dean had revealed his mixed feelings on his father to her many times during their intimate moments of sharing.

"That man had no right calling himself a father," she huffed, earning herself a raised eyebrow from Bobby. "Well?" she challenged. "Who raises their kids that way? My father was a hunter and he taught me how to hunt and protect myself but he spent every day with me and hunting _always_ came second to being my dad. We did fun things together and I had a real childhood. It may not have been normal but it was still a childhood. Sam and Dean…" She shook her head. "Dean did everything for that man and the guy waited until he was ten minutes from dying to finally tell his son he was proud of him. Just in time to dial up the guilt when he made that deal to save Dean." She looked up and stopped her rant abruptly at the expression of surprised amusement on the older man's face. Tasha had never been one to hold back her opinions, sometimes to a fault.

"Sorry, I know he was your friend but…"

"Don't apologize," Bobby told her with a chuckle. "I didn't agree with a lot John Winchester did. I'm just a little surprised Dean's told you as much as he has. He's not known to be one for sharing."

Tasha smiled. "You just gotta catch him at the right moments," she said fondly.

Bobby nodded in agreement. "Well, I'd say the same applies here," he pointed out. "Just give him a bit of time to digest what happened, bury it deep inside somewhere, and then he'll come around. He'll talk to you in his own time. He's pretty worried about Sam right now too, remember. Got a lot on his plate."

"Yeah, you're probably right," she sighed, pleased to be having her first real conversation with Bobby that wasn't polite greetings or shop talk. Surprisingly, it didn't feel awkward or uncomfortable. As Dean had told her that afternoon in his childhood clubhouse, these people here all thought of her as one of their own. She too had family now. Maybe he had known what he was talking about after all because not once in the past few days had they ever made her feel like an outsider.

Speaking of family, Tasha glanced up to see Sam and Cas approaching, the ex-angel's eyebrows knitted together in a look of disapproval about something Sam was saying.

"Actually you're right," she said to Bobby, rising to her feet to greet the newcomers. "He does have a lot on his plate. We can't help Dean heal a bullet wound so we need to help him in whatever way we can."

"Oh?" Bobby mirrored the questioning looks Cas and Sam were now giving her.

"We're gonna get Sam's soul back," she said with determination. "And your grace, Cas. Let's take that shit off his plate so he can worry about himself for a change and concentrate on getting better."

The look Sam gave her wasn't a pleased one but the other two nodded right away.

"Well, we do have the Colt and the spell," Cas offered.

"Now all we need is an Alpha," Bobby threw in, sounding sceptical.

"Then let's bag an Alpha." Tasha needed something to focus on besides her hospitalized boyfriend who had just narrowly dodged death and who felt nothing but pain and anguish every time she stepped into the room with him. Distraction was her go-to way of dealing.

The mention of an Alpha seemed to perk Sam up somewhat. "Yup," he added with an enthusiastic nod. "We definitely need an Alpha if I'm gonna get my soul back. I'm in."

"Then the question is, how do we find one?" asked Cas. "It took me a month to find the lead on the Daeva Alpha and that was when I wasn't …so limited."

Sam was quick to offer a solution. "The Campbells have been working on this for ages," he pointed out. "They have to have a lead or two."

"In case you forgot son, they're in bed with Crowley, the demon who wants you and your brother dead." Bobby's lip curled into a snarl at the mention of the demon who had shot Dean.

"Not all of them," was Sam's quick comeback. "There's always the Judas." He looked pointedly at Tasha.

She arched an eyebrow at him. "Mark? He's the one who grabbed me to start with, remember?"

Sam just shrugged, clearly not holding a grudge for the treacherous act. "He told Dean that he and Gwen and that Doc guy weren't happy about how things went down with you. You can use that. Call him."

Tasha was doubtful but anything was worth a try if it meant saving Sam and giving Dean an ounce of peace. "I would but I didn't exactly ask for his digits when I was their houseguest."

Bobby rubbed a thoughtful hand through his beard. "Well, I can get his number for you. Everybody knows somebody who knows somebody else. Not sure I like this, but we sure as hell gotta do _something_ about Mr. Sensitive here." He nodded at the tall hunter standing next to him.

Sam ignored the slant and mumbled something about visiting the vending machine to stock up for the drive and strode away down the hallway. Bobby watched him leave before digging his phone out of his pocket and heading off to an area where the use of cells was not prohibited.

Tasha wasn't blind. She could see Sam was different and definitely had an insensitive streak now. After all, what he did to Jo was very un-Samlike and the old Sam would have been at Dean's bedside every minute, but she was surprised at how antagonistic everyone was being towards the younger Winchester. He was still Sam, even if not completely. Cas remained next to her, watching her watch Sam as he rounded the far corner of the corridor.

"You know, that's not him, right?" he said quietly.

"It's most of him," she countered. "He's helped us, Cas. You guys might want to try and remember that."

Cas sighed. "While you were unconscious back at Bobby's, he admitted to us that he doesn't care," he told her. "You're the only one for whom he still bothers to pretend," he told her.

"Maybe because I'm the only one who still acts like they give a damn!" Tasha fired back.

"You shouldn't trust him."

"I'm not that naïve. I can handle a soulless Sam." With that, she spun on her heel, heading down to her car to check the trunk and see what supplies she needed to stock up on. Cas didn't follow but merely sank down in one of the plastic chairs of the waiting room.

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

Bobby did indeed score Marks's cell number from a friend of a friend of a hunting acquaintance and Tasha phoned him. He wasn't as openly apologetic as she thought he should have been but she swallowed her pride and kept things civil. He was audibly pissed to get confirmation that Samuel, Christian, and Johnny had knowingly and very intentionally handed her over to Crowley. He admitted that he, Gwen, and Doc were getting given shit assignments and being kept out of the loop because of their vocal protests over the whole incident, but he still refused to divulge any leads the Campbells had on Alphas. Tasha played up the guilt card and finally just begged.

He eventually admitted that the Campbell group was working on leads for two Alphas that he knew of. One involved a flurry of vampire activity in Illinois, where he was posted. He was fairly certain it was just a regular pack, maybe a bit larger than most, but that it would likely be just another dead end.

The second lead had to do with missing babies in Lansing, Michigan that Samuel had somehow linked to possible shapeshifters. According to the eerily well-informed Campbell patriarch, since shifters could live for hundreds of years, they very rarely bred but when they did, it was usually by impersonating a human husband, impregnating the human wife, then walking off with the babies when they were born since shifter metabolism didn't allow the carrying of a child. Even Bobby had never heard this before but Mark sang Samuel's praises again as he explained there was no end to the older hunter's knowledge. Other than that, he didn't know much about that hunt except that Samuel was working it himself.

Tasha acknowledged his help and even asked him to thank Gwen also for speaking out for her sake. They had, after all, been friends for a brief time a few years back and although it had been clear Gwen harbored resentment at Tasha taking off on Mark without so much as a goodbye, she knew that was simply her family loyalty talking and she couldn't really blame the girl for it. Mark and Gwen had been close as children since their fathers were hunting partners and had often worked together.

The hunters did some quick digging and discovered there had indeed been a rash of suspicious pregnancies and missing babies, all in Michigan. Cas pointed out that the Daevas had flocked around their Alpha in Wyoming and that an unusually large number of any one type of creature in an area was very possibly indicative of an Alpha presence. He suggested either the vampires or the missing babies could be likely leads.

"Well, Mark thinks the vamps are just a bigger-than-usual pack so I say let's go for the shifters," Tasha volunteered, not wanting to ever see another vamp for the rest of her life if she could help it. "I mean, mass shifter breeding? That's gotta be stopped."

Nobody argued.

It was decided that Sam, Tasha, Cas and Jo would go work the shifter lead while Bobby and Ellen remained to watch out for Dean until he was stable enough to move. After all, Crowley was still out for blood and it wouldn't take a genius to figure out what hospital they had gone to. With the exception of Sam's vote to the contrary, it was also unilaterally decided that the Colt should stay with Bobby. The same gun that had almost killed Dean could very well be the only thing to save him if things went south. Right now, the mission was simply to _find_   the Alpha. They would have to hold off on killing it and using its blood in the spell to open a gate to Purgatory until they figured out how to find Sam's soul and Cas's grace once the gate was opened. Bobby already had his reserve stash of reference books being shipped to the hospital and was gearing up for a research marathon.

"You worry about finding the Alpha," he told the group of young hunters as they were getting into the Impala and the Challenger. "I'll figure out the rest."

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

Samuel Campbell ordered Christian to pull the van over at mile marker 115 and shut off the ignition, motioning for him to stay inside the truck while the older man got out and leaned against the hood. Not quite two minutes passed before the demon in the dark coat appeared a few feet in front of them. Samuel waved at Christian to stay put and walked forward, keeping his back to the truck in an attempt to keep his conversation with Crowley private.

"What is it?" Crowley snapped. "I don't appreciate being summoned."

"Word is you tried to kill Sam and Dean."

"I told you they interfered."

"But our deal was you leave them alone," Samuel snarled, not backing down. "I told you I can keep them in line."

"Is letting them raid one of my facilities and kill a hundred possible leads to Alphas and setting our little mission back by weeks what you call 'keeping them in line'?" Crowley fired back. "That was before they showed up at my house again and _tried to bloody kill me!"_   He paused to regain his temper. "That part of the deal is off the table. You work for me, remember?"

"They weren't to be harmed!"

Crowley narrowed his eyes at Samuel's raised voice. "What do you care?" he asked snidely. "Little late to be grandfather of the year."

"They're still my grandsons."

"Try telling them that."

Are you going to leave them alone or not?" Samuel was clearly not in the mood for the demon's jeering banter.

"No."

The hunter clenched his fists. "Then maybe I'll keep the interesting lead on an Alpha I have all to myself," he threatened. "You want Alphas, you need hunters. I got hunters so you need me."

"I don't _need_   anyone," the demon replied coolly. "Least of all an antiquated lout who can't keep his ducks in a row."

"I'll find you a strong enough Alpha, but only if you leave Sam and Dean out of it."

Crowley shook his head. "I'm going to rid myself of those thorns in my side first chance I get. And you're going to keep your hunters in line and get me that Alpha. Sooner rather than later, I might add."

"And if I refuse?"

Another man appeared out of nowhere, zapping in right next to Crowley. He was tall with sharp, angular features and a crow-like nose. Samuel jumped and could hear Christian opening the door of the truck behind him.

"If you don't find us a decent Alpha, I'll hand your precious Mary over to Crowley here myself," the older man snapped.

Crowley threw the hunter a smirk. "Oh, Samuel, this is our silent partner, remember? The _angel_."

"Samuel?" came Christian's wary voice from behind him.

Samuel raised his hand as a gesture for Christian to stay put but never took his eyes off the newcomer. "And you are?"

"Zachariah," the man said simply. There was a flash like a sheet of localized lightening and Samuel gasped and jumped back at the sight of two huge black shadows rising behind the figure, unmistakably shaped like wings. "I can pull Mary out of Heaven..." the angel started.

"...and I can pull her into Hell," Crowley finished, a smug look on his face. "Now, are you going to get back to work and stop wasting my time?"

Samuel swallowed but nodded, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**


	16. Haywire

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

Tasha opted to keep Sam company in the Impala on the drive to Michigan while allowing Jo to give Cas further driving instruction following them in the Challenger. The blonde had developed an almost hostile attitude towards Sam and Tasha understood why she wouldn't want to be stuck in the same car as him for hours on end. Jo also seemed to be deriving a fair amount of amusement from the newly-human, ex-angel of late and it appeared the two were becoming friends.

The tall hunter behind the wheel of the Chevy was quiet during the drive but when Tasha called him on it he just shrugged and explained the no sleeping thing was a bit draining and that he was focussed on finding this Alpha.

"So we can get your soul back, right?" she pressed, seeking confirmation of his motives.

"Of course."

She sighed, not particularly satisfied with his reply and turned her attention back to the open laptop on her knees. Further research uncovered a few potential shifter babies born within the past few days or due in the next week, most of them in or near Lansing, Michigan, so that was where they headed.

The Impala pulled over at the curb not far from the hospital but before Tasha and Sam could get out, the Chevy lurched when the Challenger pulled in and bumped them hard from behind. Cas actually looked afraid when he got out and made his way around to examine the extent of the damage. He jerked his head up at Tasha as she approached.

"Uh, I'm sorry. Jo was talking and she was distracting and…and she talks a lot but I know I should have been paying more attention but…I'm sorry." He gave her a sheepish look. "She's very distracting."

Tasha laughed. "It's not me you should be worried about," she told him, noting there was a small dent in each of the fenders. "It's Dean. He's gonna kill you."

Jo nodded in agreement and laughed out loud. "Thank God that wasn't me driving."

"No, you were mostly talking," Cas quipped, getting another laugh from the women.

"Was that sarcasm, Cas?" Tasha grinned.

Sam didn't seem to derive any amusement from the incident and he interrupted to curtly remind them why they were here. The hunters got to work and within an hour, Sam and Tasha were interviewing the parents of the suspicious babies while Jo and Cas visited the hospital to check out the two still in the maternity ward. They tested them by taking flash pictures from Jo's phone by checking the eyes in the photos for the tell-tale camera flare always present with shifters.

They eliminated all the possibilities but one, a baby boy born two days ago to a separated couple. The father of the child told Sam and Tasha he knew his wife had cheated on him for he had been out of town the night she claimed their child was conceived. Strange thing was, she kept insisting to this day that she hadn't cheated and that it had been him.

Yeah, definitely their kind of suspicious. Just to be sure, Tasha and Jo intercepted the new mother, keeping her distracted at the front door while Sam slipped in the back and confirmed the presence of camera flare in the eyes of the baby. It was there. The mother and child had just been released from the hospital this afternoon so if the pattern held, the baby would be going missing within the next few days.

They decided to stake out the house, laying low and keeping an eye out for both a shifter and any snooping Campbells. It seemed the woman's mother was staying with her and anyone coming and going could be a potential shifter so it wasn't going to be easy trying to get a flash photo of everyone without raising suspicion.

"So what's the plan when the shifter does show up?" Jo asked. "Do we just kill it? Coz that's not gonna get us any closer to an Alpha."

Sam shook his head. "No. We let the shifter take the baby and then follow it to the Alpha."

"Seems kinda risky," Tasha pointed out. "If we lose it, we lose our only lead."

"Besides," Jo added. "It's a _baby_."

"No, it's a _shifter_ baby," Sam argued. "Not human, remember? Monster."

"Not the only one of those around," was Jo's mumbled reply, which Sam just ignored.

"That raises a good point though," Cas interjected. "What are we going to do with the baby in the end?"

There was a brief silence as three of the four hunters contemplated the ethics of the situation.

"How about we cross that bridge when we get to it, huh?" was Tasha's suggestion.

"Sounds good." Sam nodded. "But in the meantime, if we don't follow the shifter then what? We capture it? Because Crowley and the Campbells have been torturing all sorts of monsters for the whereabouts of their Alphas and they don't seem to be willing to cooperate. What makes you think we can do any better?"

Tasha scrunched up her nose at the lack of options but nodded. "He's right. I vote with Sam. We let it take the baby and follow it. Once we find the Alpha, we call Bobby and keep eyes on it 'til he gets here with the Colt and hope to hell he's figured out how to find your soul and your grace in Purgatory." She nodded to Sam and Cas in turn as she spoke.

Jo still looked doubtful but kept quiet. Cas just shrugged, deferring to the more experienced hunters.

The plan wasn't perfect, but it was set into motion. A half hour into the stakeout, however, Sam disappeared with no explanation but "I'll be back," and Jo cursed him for it over the radios, ranting that he thought he was too good for the grunt work and probably took off to go get laid. The three remaining hunters stayed hunkered down outside the house, ready for a long wait.

Sam came back. It was almost dawn but he did show up, hopping unannounced into the back seat of the Challenger behind Tasha and Jo. In his seven hour absence, he had 'acquired' a couple of security cameras and remote monitoring equipment as well as brand new black Dodge Charger, which he claimed was above board and legal, though he again wouldn't give any explanation beyond "What can I say? People are suckers".

Tasha was glad for the camera equipment since it would make spotting the shifter far easier, but the new car rubbed her the wrong way. "What about the Impala?" she asked him as they prepared to sneak up to the house and hide the cameras where they could would capture the face of anyone coming in or out.

Sam shrugged. "Jo can drive it 'til Dean's back on his feet. This car's more me."

Jo snorted. "Yeah, douchie."

Sam just ignored her comment, seemingly unoffended as usual. "By the way," he told them, "I also have it on good authority that the house two doors down is empty. The old lady's in Florida for the week so we can set up the monitoring equipment in there. Two of us stick by the shifter-baby house, two of us watch the monitors."

Sam wouldn't define it as excited, but there was definitely a need or a drive within him being fed by being this close to finding an Alpha. It wasn't ideal that his hunting partners questioned everything he did or said, but he could work with it. Jo was too busy being pissed at him and avoiding him to catch him at anything. Cas was quiet as a human as well as observant and shrewd, but he hadn't learned to trust his human instincts yet. He doubted and questioned himself too much to be a serious threat. He was always looking to Dean for direction and guidance and with the elder Winchester out of the picture for a few days, he seemed to be turning to Tasha instead. The brunette had great instincts but was completely blind when it came to Dean and luckily for Sam, when it came to Sam too. She would have his back and make sure the others didn't keep him out of the loop. He'd just have to make sure he stuck closer to her.

He was fairly certain the man who'd signed over the Charger to him wouldn't be risking his marriage by calling the police on the intimidating stranger who had blackmailed him in the alley behind the gay bar. As for the convenient house he'd procured, the old lady hadn't been very big. He was confident the hunters wouldn't find her in the bottom of the giant freezer in her garage before this gig was up.

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

The three younger hunters and Cas left the hospital while Dean was sleeping, knowing he wouldn't approve and would only put up a struggle to get out of bed to either join them or stop them. Bobby knew also that none of them, with the obvious exception of Sam, liked going against Dean's wishes, even if it was for his sake and were thankful to avoid the confrontation. It had always gone unspoken but Dean was clearly the leader of the small group, his tendency to evoke devotion and his natural leadership abilities coming into play without anyone ever realizing it. But Bobby noticed it. Bobby noticed it and he felt a surge of pride whenever he did.

When Dean did wake up and was informed of the current plan, his reaction was exactly as expected. Bobby feigned anger and cursed at him as he held him down, waiting for him to tire and weaken himself into submission. Took about two minutes.

"Even Tash?" Dean rasped as he tried to catch his breath from the exertion of the struggle. "She wouldn't go without saying goodbye. She wouldn't."

Bobby rolled his eyes and sighed, sinking into the chair next to the bed. "Yeah, coz you've been so chatty with her since the whole succubus thing."

Dean's face pulled into a scowl. "What am I supposed to say, Bobby?" he defended. "Sorry I tried to kill you and practically raped you at the same time?"

"Son, she don't blame you."

"Doesn't change what happened. I…" He groaned and wiped a hand down the length of his face. "And Cas and Jo?" He deftly steered the conversation back to the subject at hand. "Not exactly experienced hunters. You let them go off with Robo-Sam watching their sixes? And crap, Bobby, Tash trusts Sam. Trusts him like she trusts me. She's gonna trust him more than Cas or Jo… fuck, this is a bad idea all round. Get them back here."

"They'll be fine. I suggest you rest up and get healin' coz the sooner the doc gives you the okay, the sooner I let you leave."

"You gotta sleep sometime," Dean grumbled, already contemplating his escape.

"You won't make it to the elevator in your condition, idjit. Besides," he gave the bed-ridden hunter a sly smirk as Ellen came into the room. "I got back up."

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

**_Four days later…_ **

It had been a long four days. Stakeouts by nature were boring and tempers grew short as impatience mounted. The hunters worked in shifts that changed about, pairing Sam with either Cas or Tasha but never Jo and allowing a few hours of sleep per day for the three that still required it. There were always at least two of them stationed just outside the house, ready to follow on foot or by car if the shifter did show up or try to leave with the baby. At least one set of eyes was always on the two TV's in the other house they were staying in, watching the feed from the hidden cameras.

Tasha came in from a cold shift huddled in the bushes near the front of the baby's house and kicked off her boots, looking forward to crashing on the couch for a few hours. She changed into her shorts, grabbed a blanket and lay down but soon discovered she couldn't sleep.

Dean hadn't called. It had been four days and Dean hadn't called her. They had checked in with Bobby regularly and knew Dean had been pissed, as expected, at them going after the Alpha without him but she thought by now he would have called her directly. She missed him. She missed the closeness she had with him, she missed waking up next to him, she missed listening to him as he opened up to her during their moments alone together, and she missed the easiness of their relationship.

"Can't sleep?" Sam asked, gesturing a request to sit on the end of couch where he could keep an eye on the TV's. Cas and Jo were on the outside shift, leaving the pair alone for the next few hours. Tasha bent her knees up to make room for him.

"No," she admitted, letting out a tired sigh.

"Dean still not call?"

"Doesn't he want to fix things?" she blurted, answering the question with another.

"Well he kind of has to, doesn't he?" Sam replied, doing the same thing.

She quirked a curious eyebrow at him and continued the trend. "What do you mean?"

He shrugged, laying a hand she guessed was meant to be comforting on her knee on top of the blanket. "I mean, don't worry so much. He doesn't have a choice but to patch things up with you. He wants those babies, remember?"

The comment stung but Tasha tried to hide her hurt. Through a weird set of circumstances that one couldn't even begin to explain, Dean had met their future kids, twins by the names of Sammy and Cassie, and had fallen hopelessly in love with them. He also knew the exact date they were to be conceived, which was almost two years into the future. "What are you saying?" she stammered.

It was his turn to raise an eyebrow at her. "Really?" he asked. "I have to spell that out for you? Don't tell me it hasn't occurred to you before."

"Dean loves me."

Sam nodded. "Of course he does. And he loves those kids. We all know Dean's all about blood and family. He _wants_   those kids. So you have nothing to worry about."

"You're being insensitive," she said coolly, tipping her head back on the pillow with a frown. "That's your soullessness talking."

Sam laughed. "No, _this_ is my soullessness talking," he said, sliding a hand under the blanket to glide up her thigh.

"Hey!" she barked, alarmed. She shoved his hand off and sat up, swinging her legs off the side of the couch to rest on the floor.

Sam raised his hands in the air, feigning innocence. "What?" he said. "It's not like Dean's been Mr. Monogamy these days. You should even the score."

"That was different," she snapped, her stomach churning at this first real glimpse at the Sam everyone kept warning her was in there.

"Did Cas tell you how we found him that last time?" Sam kept talking. "Balls deep in a hot brunette. In fact, he was fucking two, not one but two women at the same time." He held up two fingers in a V. "Having the time of his life. The expression on his face, Tash… so free. Face it, Dean is not a one-woman guy. You know that. You've always known that."

"That was the succubus."

"No, that was the old Dean. The real Dean. The one I've known my whole life."

She buried her face in her hands. "Why are you being such a dick? Just coz you have no soul doesn't mean you get to be a dick."

"Grow up, Tash," he said in an almost gentle voice, scooting closer to her on the couch. "Stop being so naïve. He doesn't so much love you as he loves the idea of you. He loves that family you're supposed to give him. But that's enough because he'll come back to you for it, no matter what you do."

"Fuck you, Sam," she seethed through clenched teeth.

"Well you have before," he laughed and leaned over towards her, his hand now firmly planted on her knee.

She shoved it away and moved to stand up but he was fast and caught her off guard. He grabbed her wrist and yanked her back down next to him, pushing her right down into a laying position on the couch and throwing a leg over her in a straddling position. Panic erupted inside her and she immediately started struggling but he had both her wrists in his hands now and his grip tightened.

 _Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck._ She forced herself to stop struggling, knowing if it came down to it, Sam was far stronger and insanely well-trained and she wouldn't stand a chance against him. She needed to appeal to the part of him that was still Sam. It had to be in there somewhere.

"Sam," she pleaded, trying to curb the fear in her voice. "What are you doing? Let me go."

Sam grinned down at her, his muscled legs still holding her body pinned beneath him. "Come on," he coaxed, grinding his hips a little against hers. "It's not like we haven't done this before."

She swallowed back down the bile threatening to rise in her throat, her heart hammering painfully in her chest with fear. "Sam, no. We're not doing this. I don't want this."

"You know you do," he said evenly, his hazel eyes holding her gaze. There was no sign of Sam, the real Sam that she knew and loved, in those cold eyes.

"Please," she breathed, not above begging at this point. "Just let go of me."

He looked like he was contemplating his next move when he frowned down at her. "Huh," he said sounding surprised. "I really thought you'd go for it. You're upset and you have a history of fucking when you're upset."

She shook her head, letting the insulting comment slide for now. She supposed there was a certain amount of truth to it even if he was oversimplifying her past situations. "No," she said with as steady a voice as she could manage. "It's not gonna happen."

He tilted his head and arched an eyebrow, grinding against her once more. "Well, it will if I decide it will. I mean, I've already apparently crossed the line, let the cat out of the bag, if you will. No point in trying to mend this fence…"

 _Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck._ He was contemplating out loud whether or not he was going to force himself on her. Jesus Christ, how could she have misjudged him so badly?

She was about to appeal one last time to whatever remnants of the real Sam were still in there but decided not to bother. Instead she flung her head upwards, head butting him for all she was worth and simultaneously ramming her knee up as hard as she could, aiming for the vulnerable spot between his legs. He grunted in pain and she squirmed frantically, trying to get her body out from under his. It started to work and she kicked and thrashed at him continuously until she slipped free and fell to the floor. Scrambling to her feet she ran, making it all the way to the living room door before he caught her.

A strong hand wrapped tightly in her hair and yanked backwards, slamming her first into his muscled bulk then forward into the wall. He was immediately pressed up behind her, pinning her in place as his fingers wrapped around her wrists on either side of her head. He tipped his head down and spoke into her ear in a low voice. "That hurt."

"Please, Sam, just let me go," she gasped, the panic inside her threatening to take over as flashes of memories from an abusive foster home she had stayed in as a teenager came to her. She was almost glad she had stashed her knife in her boot before lying down on the couch because right now, she was certain she wouldn't hesitate to stab her attacker again, even if it was Sam.

He took both her wrists in one of his huge hands while the other took its time traveling down from her neck to the waistline of her cotton shorts.

"Sam, no, please," she whimpered, scared beyond words. This couldn't happen. She wouldn't get past this. The brothers wouldn't get past this. "Please don't. Not you. Not you."

"Tempting," he groaned in her ear, slipping the tips of his fingers inside the waistband of her shorts and running them around from her hip to her belly button. "You sure you don't want this? I think you do."

"The monitors!" she gasped, the thought just occurring to her. "Someone needs to be watching the monitors. The Alpha, remember?"

The hand making its way deeper into her shorts stopped instantly and his body tensed behind her. "Oh shit," he said, pulling the hand free. He kept her pinned but she could tell he was torn. "You going to go crying to Dean about this?" he asked her, his tone almost casual.

She shook her head.

"Well don't. You'd just upset him. He has enough on his mind right now and he **_is_** trying to heal from a bullet wound."

"I won't," she said truthfully. She wouldn't burden Dean with this. This would destroy him.

"I suppose a blow job's out of the question?" he asked, releasing her hands and taking a step back. "I can still watch the monitors and…"

She punched him in the face and ran.

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

Cas didn't mind this 'stakeout gig', as Tasha and Jo called it. Being eternal creatures with infinite time on their hands, angels generally spent a lot of time in solitary reflection and Cas had been no exception. As a human, especially a human working with the Winchesters on matters of epic importance, he found he had a lot less time to devote to the practice. And sleeping got in the way too. The fatigue that would come over this weak body of his every sixteen to twenty hours was terribly inconvenient and cumbersome.

So sitting alone in Tasha's car for a few hours in a row with nothing to do but watch for people coming and going from the house across the street was a welcome opportunity for him. He was pondering how he was going to get the Impala's rear bumper fixed before Dean saw the damage when the passenger door flew open and Tasha practically fell into the seat next to him.

"Tash!" he sat up straight, alarmed at both the expression on her face and the fact that she was in shorts with no shoes on. He knew she often went barefoot, something she picked up living in warmer climates as a child, but that was usually just around the house. It was cold out here.

The light from the streetlamp caught her face for an instant as she sat back in the seat and he noticed the remnants of tear streaks. They were gone in an instant for it was dark in the car and his human eyes didn't seem to have much range, but he was certain he had seen them.

"What's wrong?" he demanded.

"Nothing," she said quickly. Too quickly. Cas had practically lived with Tasha for five years. He knew her well enough to know when she was upset and covering.

"Are you alright?" His eyes narrowed. She had been in the house alone with Sam. "Did Sam…?"

"Sam's fine," she interrupted. "He's watching the monitors."

"Something is bothering you," he persisted.

"He was just being an insensitive bastard," she snapped dismissively, then after another moment added, "You were right." Her tone was less antagonistic now. "I misjudged him. How could I have been so stupid?"

Cas frowned. "Are you sure you're okay? Did he hurt you?"

She shook her head. "No, I'm fine. Let's just let it go."

She let out a long exhale and tipped her head back on the headrest for a few minutes, during which time Cas simply sat and watched her.

"Cas, you knew the kids," she said eventually, breaking the silence.

He nodded. "Cassie and Sammy? Of course."

"I know Dean loves them and he'll do anything to make sure they're born."

There hadn't been a recognizable question in there so Cas waited for her to continue, knowing if she didn't want to talk, there was no way he could make her. If he was patient, she usually opened up eventually. It had taken him almost two years to figure that one out.

"No, Dean loves me," she said finally, as if settling some unspoken internal argument she had been having with herself. "He makes me feel loved. I can feel it when he looks at me or when he kisses me. I know it. He loves me."

Cas wasn't sure how to respond so he just nodded in agreement. "Yes, he does." The car fell silent once more, though not an uncomfortable silence.

"I'm fucking freezing, Cas," she said suddenly, her tone back to its familiar, teasing one. "You gonna offer me your coat or what?"

'Oh, yes of course," he replied, wondering if he was supposed to have known to do that or if she was just giving him a hard time. He shrugged out of his trench coat and handed it over to her.

She curled her feet up onto the seat and pulled it over her like a blanket. "Wake me when shift's over, 'kay?" she mumbled groggily before closing her eyes. He listened to her breathing in the otherwise silence of the car and noticed the moment she finally succumbed to sleep.

A faint smile pulled at the corners of his mouth despite the all-round crappy situation. She had been upset and had sought him out. She could have gone off alone or visited Jo in the Impala, but she had come to him. They were still a far cry from the friendship they had once shared, but it was definitely a start and he felt touched by it, warmed by the familiar feeling of having her sleeping as he watched over her.

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

Dean's finger hovered over the 'four' on his cell. One button. One little button. Why couldn't he get up the nerve to press it? It was the speedial button that would be the first step in filling this hole he was feeling inside - and not the one made by Crowley's bullet. The first step in fixing the mess he'd made of his relationship with Tash.

"Just talk to her, you dick," he mumbled under his breath. "Don't be such a coward."

But his finger refused to budge; it just sat there a fraction of an inch above its intended target.

"You gonna call that gal of your or just stare at your phone all day?" came a deep voice from the doorway and Dean looked up to see Bobby shuffling in with more research books in his hand.

"Just checking the time," Dean lied, tossing the cell back on the bedside table. "You getting anywhere?" He nodded his heads at the books.

"Nah, not yet. I got a couple more texts to check then honestly, I'm out of avenues. I've tried every hunter I know and every hunter Ellen knows and every hunter all of them know. That's a lot of damn hunters and nobody knows shit about Purgatory."

"Bobby, we can't give up." Dean winced at how tired his own voice sounded. He was out of intensive care and off the monitors with just a single I.V. in his wrist but he still felt like he had been hit by a Mac truck then tossed out a three-storey window for good measure. He had been asking to leave the hospital every hour since his brother and friends had left to go searching for an Alpha but Bobby was a stubborn son of a bitch and Ellen... well Ellen was even worse. "We have to find something," he said. "We have to get his soul out of there."

"I ain't giving up," Bobby snarled testily. "I ain't ever given up on you boys so I sure as hell ain't gonna start now." He sighed, sinking down in the uncomfortable chair at Dean's bedside. "We'll find something eventually," he added, averting his eyes from the green ones staring at him right now like he was the one with all the answers. Truth was, he had none.

Dean swallowed. "Eventually might be too late for Sam."

Bobby tossed a heavy book onto the bed. "Then get readin'," he ordered. "Ain't nothing wrong with yer eyes."

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

Cas's attention was pulled from the boring view of the empty walkway up to the house by a whimper at his side. He glanced over to see Tasha stirring slightly under his trench coat. He decided to let her be but a minute later her hands shot up in the air, her feet thrashed out, and a short cry escaped her lips. He put a hand on her shoulder and called her name.

She was awake in an instant but it took a few seconds for her eyes to stop their wild roaming and her breath to calm. He watched as she forced her composure back when she came to and saw him looking at her.

"Are you alright?" he asked sincerely.

"Course," she huffed, sitting up straight and dropping her feet back to the floor. "It was just a strange dream. I'm fine."

Cas gave her a skeptical look. "Then why can I hear your heart beating from here?" he challenged. "I don't have angel super hearing anymore, remember?"

He got a scowl in reply.

He shrugged it off. "Was it the one where Diego turns Dean into a vampire then your father kills him?"

Her moth dropped open. "How did you...?" Her lips tightened and her eyes narrowed at him. "No, not that one. But how would you even know about that?"

"You used to have that one from time to time when we stayed together." When she didn't comment he explained further. "I used to enter your dream and end it."

That got a shocked look. "And I let you do that?"

Cas chuckled at the memory. "Actually, you tore me a new one the first time I did it but eventually, you came to appreciate it."

"Huh."

"You had the sigils on your ribs so when I was away searching for God, it was the only way I could check on you."

Tasha stared at him for a long moment and Cas had absolutely no idea whether he was about to get told off or teased. In the end it was neither.

"We were really good friends, weren't we?" she asked quietly, her expression serious.

He nodded. "Yes."

"Hmph. What else do you know about me?" He knew she was looking for further proof she had trusted him once, something more to justify doing it again now.

"That's a rather general question. Let me see, your father was a hunter. Your mother wasn't."

She snorted. "Fifty people know that."

Cas grinned and continued. "Your mother, Erin, was a talented artist and loved music and poetry." She looked surprised he would know that. "Her favorite poet was Lamartine. In fact, for your thirtieth birthday, your first thirtieth anyway since you are now only twenty-five, I gave you a copy of an original edition collection of his poems published in 1853."

Her mouth dropped open. "You did?"

He nodded.

"Wow. That's actually really sweet. Wow. You know what, Cas? You're gonna make someone a really sweet husband one of these days. We should really look into finding you a girlfriend."

He frowned. "I don't need a girlfriend. I have enough friends. I have you and Dean..."

Tasha laughed. "Well, I'm not even gonna try and explain the difference." She leaned down and started rooting through the convenience store bag on the floor of the Challenger. "Okay, BFFF, what do you say we raid the munchies bag for something tasty?"

Cas smiled. "I believe the acronym is BFF, with two F's."

Tasha snorted. "Nope, grownups add a 'fucking' in there, Cas. Now that you're human, we're gonna have to teach you how to swear properly."

Cas just sighed, remembering how she hadn't cut down on her profanity in the other timeline until the children were born, which was now over two years away. He took the Twizzler stick she handed him and they ate in silence for a few minutes.

"So, Cas?"

"Yes?"

"Do angels dream?"

He shook his head. "No, but now that I'm no longer an angel..." he frowned. "It is strange to not have control of your dream, of your own actions in that dream."

She giggled. "Tell me what you've dreamt about so far," she said, her voice singing with curiosity. "But skip the details if it involves porn," she added quickly with a grimace. "That would be TMI."

He shifted uncomfortably, suddenly realizing why humans didn't like the idea of him snooping in their dreams. "Well," he said hesitantly, "A few days ago I dreamt my belly button was a Tootsie Roll dispenser. You all kept chasing me trying to pull my hair so the candy would come out." Describing his bizarre dream out loud suddenly made him feel extremely foolish.

Tasha laughed. She laughed so hard he couldn't help but start to laugh with her.

"It was no doubt influenced by a story your daughter Cassie made up during her before-bed story time," he defended sheepishly. "She had a vivid imagination and Sammy used to love Tootsie Rolls."

At the mention of her future children, he saw the laugh lines of her face fall, replaced by a look of both curiosity and apprehension. "Sam says Dean loves the idea of me more than the actual me," she blurted.

"Sam's lying," Cas replied quickly, his brows knitting together in a frown. "I assure you, he's lying. Dean loves you."

"Then why hasn't he called?"

"Because right now, he doesn't feel worthy. Don't worry Tash; he'll realize he loves you more than he hates himself and he will call. He will. Everything will be fine between you two." He saw the doubtful look on her fade lessen but not disappear. "I know it," he added. "I used to be an angel, remember?"

She smiled. "So Sam loses his soul and becomes a dick and you decide to take his role over while he's away, huh?" she said teasingly. "You're the resident emo chick for the time being?"

"Emo chick?"

Her explanation of the term was cut off by the arrival of the shifter baby's maternal grandmother. She pulled up in a Toyota and made her way up the front walk.

"Cas, that's the mom's mom, right?" Tasha asked.

"Yes." Cas tensed. "But she is already inside."

He pulled out his phone to call Sam but it rang in his hand. "Sam," he answered sharply.

" _The old lady that just went in – she's our shifter. Her eyes flared on the camera."_

Cas nodded. "We thought as much."

" _Keep your eyes out for her leaving but don't tip her off_ ," was Sam's stern warning. " _I'm on my way over right now. Don't fuck this up. We only get one chance."_

He huffed at Sam's insolence but hung up quickly to call Tasha back into the car. She ignored him and made her way surreptitiously over the street to crouch in the bushes just outside the house where Jo was stationed. Cas opened his window but remained where he was, knowing they needed someone ready behind the wheel of a car to follow when the shifter left.

When a scream rang out in the house, Jo and Tasha both jumped up, dashing up the front porch steps. Cas wasn't sure what to feel: impressed the girls were instinctively putting the welfare of the shifter's mother before the mission or disappointed for that very same reason. Suddenly Sam was there, cursing loudly as he charged up the walkway also and making his position on the ethical dilemma clear.

Cas decided at this point the original plan was shot to hell and clambered out of the car, just a few feet behind Sam by the time they reached the front door.

The baby's mother was already dead and Cas could only presume the second dead woman on the floor was the real grandmother because the other one who looked just like her was planting a kick in a downed Jo's gut. Tasha was picking herself up from the floor rather stiffly, a sure sign she had taken a hit or two also.

Jo managed to draw a gun and point it at her assailant but Sam kicked it out of her hand before she could fire. In doing so, however, the tall hunter opened himself up for a hit from the shifter and was easily sent flying into the living room wall. Cas drew his own gun, also loaded with silver bullets, and took aim.

"No!" Sam yelled from where he landed on the floor. "We need it alive!"

Cas hesitated, not wanting to destroy any chance they had of finding the Alpha but not willing to let any of his friends get hurt in the process. Especially since he couldn't heal them anymore. His hesitation cost him the advantage because the shifter charged at him and tackled him full force, sending them botn careening to the floor. They rolled around, fists flying, but in his new human state, Cas was no match for the extremely strong shape shifter. It soon had him gasping for breath and seeing blotches and it stood up and headed for the baby's room, planting another kick in Jo's stomach as it passed her.

Sam was up and tackled it again, getting in a few good punches before it had him back on the floor. Cas rolled to his knees just in time to see it pick up Jo's lost gun and aim it at the younger Winchester.

"Jo!" Tasha yelled and the ex-angel spun his head to see the blonde hunter toss the unarmed brunette a knife. In a blink, Tasha was behind the shifter with the knife raised and Cas wasn't sure but he though he saw her hesitate. That was odd because Tasha never hesitated in a fight with a knife in her hand. She was all fluid motion and stolen strike opportunities. That said, she did bring the knife down hard into the shifter's back before the shot went off, deflecting it a few inches sideways so it barely missed Sam's head. The shifter screamed and arched backwards, trying to claw at the knife.

"You won't get the baby!" it screamed as it started to slump and its face began to droop. "Father will come for it! Father will find it! He can find all of us!"

With that it melted into a repugnant pile of goop on the floor, bits of clothing and Jo's gun the only solid objects left in the mess. Sam pushed himself to his feet and glared at Tasha.

"You fucking killed our last lead."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You're right," she said icily. "I should have let him shoot you."

"We still have the baby," Cas pointed out, deciding something had definitely gone down between Sam and Tasha but knowing this wasn't the time or place to deal with it.

Sam looked up, his expression thoughtful. They could hear the baby crying in the other room. "You're right. It said Father will come for it. It had to mean the Alpha. This could work in our favor. This is good."

Jo looked incredulously at the two dead women on the floor as she dragged herself to her feet. "How could this possible be good?"

"It said its father will come for it," Sam elaborated. "That he could always find them. This way we take the baby and let the Alpha come to us, on our own terms."

Cas could see the distrust in the eyes of both the female hunters but had to admit Sam had a point. "He's right," he weighed in. "We can take the baby somewhere and set up an ambush for the Alpha." Nobody moved. "But let's get out of here before the police are called," he added, trying to end the glaring contest going on in the room around him.

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**


	17. The Hunters Become the Hunted

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

The sound of sirens in the distance finally got them moving.

"Some neighbor must have called the police," Sam stated urgently. He turned to Tasha, pointing at her bare feet and tiny sleep shorts. "You're the least decent. Grab the baby and head out the back door through the bushes to the next street over." He looked round to the others. "Jo, go get the Impala. Cas, get the Challenger. I'll get my car. We need to get them off this street before they lock this whole area down. I'll pick Tash up round back and we'll meet at the Sunoco gast station up on Menard Drive."

Tasha hurried down the hallway towards the sound of the screaming baby. "Fine, but I'll be riding with Cas, not you," she called back over her shoulder.

Cas ignored the look of frustration that flickered across the soulless hunter's face and agreed immediately. "I'll be there," he told Tasha as the three remaining hunters quickly exited the front door and rushed to the cars, keeping their heads down as the neighbors were surely looking out their windows by now.

Cas was indeed waiting in the nearby street when Tasha got there, as was Sam in his new Charger. Tasha walked right past Sam's car and climbed into the passenger seat of her own, the wailing baby wrapped in a blanket in her arms. It was still crying when she and Cas pulled up at the Sunoco Gas Station next to the Impala and the Charger and all four hunters got out to discuss their next move.

"If that shifter was telling the truth," Sam summarized, "then the Alpha will come for this baby. If he can sense it like the shifter said he can, then we might not have much time."

"So where do we lay this trap?" Jo asked, raising her voice to be heard over the din of the crying child. "We're not equipped to take out an Alpha."

"You're right," Sam nodded. "We need the Colt." He pulled out his phone. "Bobby's got it. We'll meet him halfway."

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

Dean leaned heavily on the sink and stared at his reflection as he cleaned his teeth in the small lavatory off his hospital room. Things were so screwed up. Bobby and Ellen had exhausted their resources and had not found any way to find a soul in Purgatory, much less bring it back from there. All they could do was open a blind, defenceless gate to quite possibly the worst place in existence. The words had not been said out loud but the chance of rescuing Sam's soul from there was now officially non-existent. Even capturing and threatening Crowley wasn't an option because as a demon, it seemed he had no jurisdiction over Purgatory.

Dean had spoken to Cas a couple of nights ago while the angel had been alone on a watch shift outside the shifter-baby house, looking for any scrap of information that would help them in the event they actually did find an Alpha. Cas was fairly certain no angel had ever ventured to Purgatory prior to his own short trip and even if they had, none but him would risk it for Sam and Cas was no longer 'of any use'.

"Cas, remember when I said I was glad to have you in my corner even though you were low on angel juice?" Dean had told the ex-angel sincerely. "Well, nothing's changed. It's not just your mojo that makes you a valuable member of the team, okay? You know more than any of us about pretty much everything and nobody can ever question your loyalty. I'd trust you with my life. In fact, I am trusting you with that right now. I'm trusting you to have Tasha's back 'til I can give friggin' Bobby Eagle-Eyes here the slip and come meet you guys."

"I heard that," Bobby had growled in the dark between snores from his position on the chair by Dean's bed with his feet stretched out and his tipped back.

"My point exactly," Dean had snapped, frustrated at being held prisoner by both his battered, weak body and Bobby's unwavering vigilance.

But now, two days later, his body was finally able to hold itself upright for more than a couple of minutes yet Bobby still refused to let him check out of this hellhole hospital 'against medical advice'. The topic had been a constant source of argument for the last forty-eight hours, Dean's need to be there in case the others ran into trouble near driving him crazy. Dean had a sneaky suspicion Bobby's refusal to let him go was more an effort to keep him out of the physical confrontation that would inevitably take place in a stupid plan such as tailing a shapeshifter to locate an Alpha rather than any agreement with the doctor's constant nagging that infection was still very possible and they had to keep monitoring him just in case.

He spat the toothpaste into the sink and rinsed before splashing the cold water on his face, a lump forming in his throat at the knowledge his brother's soul was probably going to fry - or rot or roast or scream in agony or whatever the particulars were – in Purgatory for the rest of eternity… _alone_.  "Fuck, Sammy," he whispered to the pale face in the mirror. "I'm sorry."

He cleared his throat and headed back out to his room, his intention to flop back on the bed and bitch some more to Bobby, but he was surprised to find the room empty.

_The guard dog was gone!_

Without missing a beat, he headed straight for the door but was stopped by a plump, middle-aged nurse, who started immediately scolding him for being up and about. "You need to rest, Mr. Ulrich," she chided, placing a firm hand on his shoulder and ushering him back towards the bed. "Now, why on earth don't you have your I.V. in?"

"I don't have time for this," Dean said impatiently, shoving her hand away from him and taking a step sideways to get around her. "I'm leaving."

Five strong fingers wrapped themselves around his wrist in a painfully tight grip that immediately got his full attention. He spun back to face her as he tried to yank his arm away but she held fast, her mouth curling up into a vicious smile and her eyes flashing black.

"Crowley sends his regards," she spat as she landed a fist in his gut so hard he flew six feet backwards. He hit the wall with a loud smack that sent shockwaves of pain ricocheting through his body before he dropped to the floor in a tangle of the bedside equipment wires. He struggled to suck in a breath and clear his spinning head but could hear her heavy footsteps approaching. He kicked out wildly at her feet, despairing when he was unable to knock her off balance. A hard fist landed in his jaw and lights exploded across his field of vision when his head once again bounced off the hard wall behind him. He felt strong hands grip the front fabric of his t-shirt and pull him up the wall.

"Such a pain in the ass," the nurse hissed, pure hatred dripping from every word. "I'm going to enjoy... ughhhk."

Her sentence ended abruptly with a chortling sound and Dean's vision cleared just in time to see lights dancing under her skin as her eyes went black and her mouth dropped open in a silent scream of pain. She fell to the floor, releasing his shirt as she went to reveal Bobby standing behind her, Ruby's bloody knife in his hand and a scowl on his face. He offered an immediate hand to help Dean up.

"Crap, boy, I can't leave you alone for two minutes," he growled, his voice tense but his eyes wide with genuine worry as they studied the younger hunter.

"What can I say?" Dean tried to sound flippant but his lack of breath was working against him. "I have a way with the nurses." He was on his feet but Bobby still had a death grip on his arm and didn't seem to want to release him. "I'm okay," Dean added seriously.

Bobby nodded and finally let go, reaching inside his vest to pull out both the Colt and his cell. "One of Crowley's, I presume?" he asked, jerking his chin at the dead nurse on the floor as he hit a speed dial button.

Dean nodded and was about to elaborate but Bobby cut him off, speaking sharply into his phone. "Ellen? Demons showed up. Bring the car around. I'm bringing him down." With that he hung up and handed Dean the Colt. "Looks like you get your wish," he said. "We're outta here."

"Bout friggin' time," Dean grumbled back, automatically checking the number of rounds in the Colt. Six plus one in the chamber.

Bobby ignored him and tossed him his jacket before stepping out into the dimly-lit hallway. Dean followed, thankful it was barely dawn and there were no hospital staff or patients roaming about. They headed towards the elevator but stopped short when two men stepped out of it, their stride too even and purposeful to be innocent bystanders. Dean gripped Bobby's sleeve and started hauling him backwards even before the men turned their heads in their direction and both sets of eyes flashed black.

They ducked into the stairwell a few doors back and Bobby swiftly used Ruby's knife to pry a metal frame off a prostate exam PSA advertisement mounted on the wall. "Keep goin'!" he barked at Dean as he fed the stiff metal through the door handles and twisted it around itself. "That won't hold 'em fer long but it'll slow 'em down," he grumbled, running the few steps it took him to catch up with Dean.

Dean took the first two levels of stairs two at a time before starting to feel the effect of the exertion on his still-healing chest muscles. Swallowing down the pain with well-practiced determination, he forced himself to keep up the pace for the remaining two floors, Bobby breathing heavily close behind him. They spilled out into the corridor by the cafeteria on the main level to see a man and a woman at the far end of the hall turn and stiffen at their arrival. The cold, predatory looks on their faces were the giveaway this time that they were demons and the two hunters fled towards the front doors at full speed, Dean waving the Colt threateningly at the pair.

The demons were fast and were gaining on them, angry snarls on both their faces. Bobby and Dean dashed outside, stumbling to a halt outside on the sidewalk under the emergency canopy.

"Balls! Where in God's knickers is that woman?" Bobby snarled between pants.

As if answering the gruff old hunter's quirky version of a prayer, the Harvelles' Jeep came tearing around the corner, skidding to a halt in front of the pair just as the demons reached them. Dean fired, hitting one almost point blank in the forehead before yanking the Jeep's door open and tumbling into the back seat as Bobby jumped in front. The second demon launched herself at the vehicle, latching onto the open rear door and trying to pull herself up as the Jeep started moving again. Dean planted a boot in her face but she held fast so he simply cocked the gun again and fired, cutting her cry of fury short as she dropped to the asphalt with a sick-sounding thud.

He closed his door and sank back into the seat with a groan. Bobby's worried face appeared between the two front seats, eyebrows knitted together in concern. "You okay, boy?"

Dean nodded, still trying to catch his breath. "How many more states do you think I can get myself wanted for murder in?" he griped between heavy breaths that had a definite wheezing sound on their tail end.

Bobby nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I think you best be avoiding Nebraska for the foreseeable future. That'll be on camera somewhere."

"Well, I guess I left the hospital AMA after all," Dean added with a gloating smirk. "Now if you tell me we're going anywhere except to Michigan," he added with a scowl, "I'm gonna hafta use this Colt on your ass next."

Bobby rolled his eyes, letting out a sigh of acquiescence. "S'pose I ain't gonna argue with ya on that one anymore."

"Damn right," Dean grumbled, immensely relieved to finally be heading towards the other hunters and their dangerous baby-shifter mission. He made a silent promise to himself to talk to Tasha when he saw her. Nothing he could say could wipe from his mind the memory of what he had done to her in Bobby's garage but he already knew he couldn't end it with her even if he wanted to. He had tried that once 'for her own good' when he had known he was going to hell and had hoped to spare her the pain of losing him to the hellhounds. As it turned out, it hadn't kept her happy or safe because she had refused to move on and honestly, so had he. He needed her to be safe but he needed her to be safe _with him_. So if they couldn't walk away from each other, he was going to have to find some way of forgiving himself and asking her to forgive him. He hadn't figured the particulars of that part yet but he had a twelve hour drive ahead of him to come up with something.

He passed out within ten minutes, his head tilted against the glass and the Colt still clutched tightly in his hand.

Bobby and Ellen rode in silence for a while, keeping a sharp eye out for law enforcement as Ellen expertly sped the back roads towards the Iowa border. When they were relatively sure they were free and clear of any police entanglements, they both began to relax and Bobby even lowered the volume on the police scanner to tune in to the local country station. Ellen reached between the seats to clasp his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze of reassurance.

He smiled at her, debating the wisdom in leaning over and kissing her cheek in case the fool in the back seat woke up but decided to go for it anyway. His phone interrupted the stolen moment of affection, however, before it even started and he growled as he pulled it out of his pocket.

"Yeah?" he answered curtly, seeing Sam's name on the screen. "Woah, slow down... What happened?... Wait, put one of the others on... No, I don't trust you. I want to hear it from someone else... Hi darlin'..." He fell quiet as Tasha brought him up to speed, the frown on his face growing deeper with every passing minute. He closed his eyes and nodded as the explanation ended, visibly agreeing with whatever she was saying even though she couldn't see him. "Well, as a matter of fact we're already on our way. There's a diner just a mile outta Princeton, Illinois. A real grease pit but it's out of the way and quiet and it's about halfway. Wait for us there."

" _Why are you on your way here already_?" was her edgy reply. " _Did something happen?"_

"Yeah, Crowley sent a bevy of demons after Dean here but don't sweat it, he's fine. He's catchin' up on his beauty sleep in the back seat. Like I said, we'll meet you there in about six hours." He hung up and gave Ellen a tired look. "Seems the kids got an Alpha breathin' up their asses and they need the Colt pronto," he informed her matter-of-factly, as if that was a perfectly normal statement.

Neither of them mentioned out loud the fact that there was really no need in capturing or killing an Alpha anymore because in all their research, they had not found a way to find Sam's soul even if they did get a gate open.

Ellen simply raised an eyebrow at him. "Bevy?" she grinned. "You old fool; I'm pretty sure demons come in hordes."

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

They had been on the road for over an hour and Tasha was ready to pull her hair out in exasperation. "Oh my God, Cas," she ground out. "Why won't this thing shut up?"

Cas was still driving and Tasha holding the blanket-wrapped bundle of monster-joy in her arms in the passenger seat. "Well, it most likely needs fed and changed," he explained, giving her an incredulous look.

She rolled her eyes. "Okay, pull over at that gas station up ahead," she said, pointing out the front window at an Exxon sign on the horizon. "We'll get diapers and shit."

Cas suppressed his smile at her discomfort and obeyed. He got out of the car with her and explained the reason for the stop to Jo and Sam, who had both pulled in beside them with questioning looks on their faces.

"Be quick about it," Sam said curtly. "Jo and I will keep watch out here."

Tasha threw him a glare and Cas wasn't sure if it was because he was giving orders when that was normally Dean's role or because of whatever had transpired between the two on the last watch shift back in Lansing. He followed the brunette into the store and showed her which size diapers to buy as well as directing her towards baby powder and butt paste. The pair had to ask what to get in the way of formula since Tasha had breast-fed the twins and Cas had no idea what an infant would require for nourishment other than breast milk.

Tasha disappeared into the one private washroom with a changing table only to yell for Cas a couple of minutes later. "Cas! Get your ass in here!"

He went in also, wrinkling his nose up at the unpleasant smell and the messy sight that greeted him. Tasha had the dirty diaper open and the mustard-colored putty that filled it was smeared all over the baby and the counter. "Just like old times, huh?" he grinned at her, forgetting for a moment she no longer held those memories of raising two children together. She didn't reply but gave him an aggravated look as she struggled to hold the baby's legs in the air out of the mess.

Cas wet some paper towel and handed it to her, trying not to laugh at the look of distress on her face. Having always done it with his angel powers in the past, Cas had never actually changed a diaper manually but when it became clear Tasha had absolutely no clue how to do it, he reluctantly stepped in and took over. Between the two of them, they eventually did manage to get the job done. The baby wouldn't stop crying the whole time and once the clean diaper was somewhat snug and the baby's pyjamas snapped back up, Cas wrapped the baby blanket back around him once more and picked him up, handing him automatically back to Tasha. She frowned but took him without argument, holding him against her chest and bouncing up and down a little.

"This is what they do on TV, right?" she asked hesitantly, looking to the ex-angel for reassurance. "Foster Mom number three used to do this with her baby but they didn't let us delinquents near the little pile of poop."

Cas smiled, having already heard all about Tasha's numerous foster homes but pleased she was sharing the personal information with him once again.

She kept bouncing but the baby kept crying, wailing and virtually screaming at the top of its lungs with no signs of ever stopping. "Cas, I... what am I... what do we do?" She was clearly getting flustered. "Is it sick or something?"

Cas stepped forward again and took the baby from her, nestling it in the crook of his left arm against his chest and rocking it gently while he softly hummed the theme from The Andy Griffith Show. Within seconds, the crying stopped and soft cooing sounds were all that emerged from the blanket.

Tasha's shoulders slumped and a loud exhale escaped her. "Thank God. You've got the magic touch, Cas." She smiled at him weakly. "So was I this pathetic with my own kids?"

"You were a wonderful mother, Tash," Cas said, meaning the statement whole heartedly.

She gave him a skeptical look in reply and he was about to elaborate on her love and devotion towards her children but at that moment, Sam opened the door and gave them an impatient frown. "You guys done in here?" he asked briskly. "We need to keep moving."

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

It was just before noon when the four hunters and baby reached the diner where Bobby had agreed to meet them. Sam pulled in and parked at the far end of the long parking lot, in the shade and partial cover of some trees and the other two cars pulled up next to him. Tasha was driving this time and Cas was holding the baby, a bottle of formula grasped tightly in its tiny hands and greedy sucking noises the only sounds it was making.

"I have to use the washroom so I'll go in and check the place out," Sam announced without greeting. "I didn't see Ellen's Jeep so I think we're the first here. You three stay here where we're out of sight 'til I give you the all-clear." With that he tucked his Glock into the back of his jeans and strode away towards the small building housing the diner.

Jo curled up her lip as she watched the tall hunter cross the parking lot. "It has to pee," she said snidely. "So it's human after all."

Tasha was standing next to her but never replied. The pair were silent for a few minutes before the brunette turned slowly around to gaze thoughtfully behind her, a frown tugging her brows together. Without saying a word, she walked over to the grassy strip in front of where the cars were pulled in and peered down over the steep banking. She stood there with her hands on her hips for a moment before turning back to the blonde with a lopsided smile. "Hey," she said with a pointed glance back at the Charger. "You thinking what I'm thinking?"

Jo's face lit up with realization and her mouth spread into an eager grin. "Seriously?"

"It's like fifty feet down - steep and all rocks."

Cas frowned from where he stood off to the side, feeding the baby in his arms and rocking it gently. "What are you two up to?" he asked warily. He knew the look on Tasha's face and knew it usually ended with trouble.

Tasha ignored him, waiting instead for a reply from Jo. "You in?"

"Hell yeah," the blonde laughed. "Asshole doesn't deserve this car."

Tasha moved to the Charger's driver's door and opened it, leaning in to toss out Sam's duffel before slipping the gear into neutral. Jo positioned herself at the back of the car and they both started pushing.

"Wait! Tash!" Cas exclaimed. "I don't think this is a good idea! Uhhh, Jo? Tash? Ladies!"

They ignored him and within seconds, the Charger was hurtling down the steep embankment, making crunching and smashing sounds as it bounced over rocks and struck small trees on its way to the bottom. Both women stood at the top and watched it go, their faces giving away the sheer enjoyment they were getting out of the juvenile act.

Cas closed his eyes and let out a low groan, grimacing in worry when he heard running footsteps behind him. He turned to see Sam sprinting past him and over to where the girls stood. The tall hunter's mouth was hanging open slightly in shock as he too peered over the edge of the slope, trying to catch a glimpse of his destroyed car.

"What the Hell?" he demanded.

Tasha shrugged nonchalantly. "Dude, your car just rolled off the cliff. Ever hear of a parking brake?"

Sam pursed his lips and Cas watched anxiously, hoping like hell the cold, soulless hunter wasn't going to react badly. Sam didn't say a word but just gave Tasha a long, hard stare.

Jo snickered from behind him. "So tell me, Sam," she sang in a teasing voice that held no affection whatsoever. "Are you going to get another Charger? Was it ' _worth a repeat performance_ '?"

Tasha picked up on Jo's deliberate choice of words and followed suit. "Yeah, Sam, did you love that car or just the _idea_ of that car?" she jeered, throwing the hunter's insensitive words from their encounter last night right back at him.

It occurred to Cas he finally understood that human saying about hell knowing no fury like the wrath of a woman scorned.

Sam shook his head slowly, his face impassive. "Now see, the old me would have been pissed," he said evenly.

Tasha narrowed her eyes. "And the new you?"

The tall hunter just shrugged his broad shoulders. "Luckily the new me still thinks you two could prove useful." He glanced back and forth between Jo and Tasha. "I'll need you to get Bobby and Ellen here with the Colt." He turned and started walking back towards the diner. "Things are all clear inside," he announced over his shoulder. "Let's get something to eat and wait for them in there."

Both women stood where they were for a long minute, watching him go.

"I miss Sam," Tasha finally whispered, all traces of laughter gone from her face.

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

Forty-five minutes later, the four hunters and the baby were jammed into a booth near the back of the diner, eating their greasy meals in silence. There was an unmistakable tension at the table, broken only by the occasional contented coo from the baby in Cas's arms as it sucked greedily from its bottle.

The women were on one bench and Sam had taken the outside of the other, boxing Cas in with the baby in a protective position. Nobody was fooling themselves into believing it was for any reason other than ensuring his Alpha-bait was kept safe. He did flash a ' _fuck-me_ ' smile at the semi-attractive waitress, that pretense of being a decent guy returning for the brief moment she was at their table. He clearly didn't appreciate Jo calling him 'sweetie' when he almost had the redhead writing her number on his napkin.

The blonde rolled her eyes. "We're kind of on a mission here," she pointed out. "Or were you planning on asking the shifter Alpha to hold off while you go get laid?"

The tall hunter just took another bite of his dessert. "That your jealousy talking?"

"Hell no!" Jo spat. "Just looking out for the waitress. She..."

"I hate to interrupt," Cas lied, his attention focused out the window. "But we have a problem."

Three heads spun sideways. Two SUV's had just pulled up and people were piling out of them; people in suits and nice clothing who looked like they had no business showing up en masse at an out-of-the way grease pit in Bumfuck, Illinois.

"Oh crap," breathed Jo.

"Fuck," cursed Tasha.

"Damnit," spat Sam. "It's too soon! We don't have the Colt yet." He turned to Cas as all four of them rose quickly to their feet. "You and Tash take the baby into the back and bar the door. We'll hold them off out here." With that he raced to the front door, kicked the rock propping it open out of the way, pulled it shut, and turned the lock.

"Got your silver?" he said to Jo.

She nodded, tapping the small of her back in reassurance her pistol was there and loaded with silver bullets. "But it won't work on the Alpha, remember?"

"Why do you think I locked the door? If one of these is the Alpha, we're in trouble."

"Excuse me?" the waitress called out, approaching them. "You can't lock that door."

"Trust me, you don't want these people in here," he fired back. The first of the newcomers reached the door, rattling it loudly and giving the tall hunter an angry glare through the glass. The others closed in behind it and the staring match escalated.

Until the first one's eyes went black.

Sam and Jo both jumped.

"They're demons! Not shifters!" Jo cried in alarm backing away from the door.

Sam nodded, pursing his lips. "Which means our bullets won't work."

"Demons? Bullets?" the waitress was giving them the ' _you're crazy_ ' look. "Why are you locking those people out? What's going on here?"

"I need salt," Sam barked, drawing his gun and stepping back as the demons outside started pounding hard on the door. "Get me your supply box of salt."

"Hey!" the only other patron in the diner exclaimed, standing up from his seat at the counter. He was a large man in paint-smeared work pants and a denim jacket, probably the owner of the rusty pick-up outside with the peeling ' _Granger's Painting_ ' logo on the side. He approached the escalating ruckus at the front door with a frown but stopped and raised his hands in the air when his eyes fell on the Glock in Sam's hand. "Woah, buddy," he gasped, stepping in front of the now-trembling waitress. "You should put that thing away."

A loud crack rang out as one demon's fist connected hard with the window next to the door. Sam's mouth drew into a tight, frustrated straight line as he and Jo gave up on getting salt from the waitress and dashed towards the closest tables grabbing salt shakers. They ignored the frantic questions from Granger and the waitress as well as the shouting coming from the kitchen where Cas and Tasha had taken the baby and quickly spread a thin line of salt across the doorway and the line of windows along the front of the small building. The demons outside were moving around, trying to get in anywhere they could. It was slow work having to unscrew the caps off three shakers to get a single salt line and before they could get to the side window, the glass was smashed and a demon jumped in, charging Sam immediately.

The hunter was slammed into a nearby table and the waitress screamed. Other demons were running along the front of the building towards the broken window. Jo glanced between Sam losing the fight and the exposed entrance and without hesitating, turned towards Sam, splashing holy water on the demon furiously raining blows on the soulless hunter beneath it. She shoved a rosary up against its sizzling cheek as it screamed and started reciting a Latin exorcism, giving Sam enough time to recover and roll out of the way as he struggled for air.

"The window," he gasped, sliding off the bench seat he had been knocked down onto and trying to get to his feet. The demons were almost there.

Suddenly Tasha was there, a big box of salt in her hands. She dashed to the broken window and poured a quick salt line, completing it just as the next demon tried to rush in. The demon grunted and cursed his fury when he slammed into the invisible wall the salt line created.

Cas ran to Jo and helped her pin the strong, writhing demon while she finished the exorcism and Tasha finished the salt lines, reinforcing the thin ones Sam and Jo had placed with the shaker salt.

Sam regained his breath enough to stand. "Where's the baby?" he demanded of Cas.

Cas nodded towards an elderly man in a cook's apron standing in the doorway to the kitchen who had the baby clasped in his arms, his eyes wide with obvious fear. A jet of black smoke finally streamed out of the demon Cas and Jo were wrestling with and the ex-angel let out a deep breath before walking over to take the baby back.

"You're welcome," Tasha said, her voice thick with sarcasm as she finished the last of the salt lines.

Sam ignored the snide remark. "You get the back door salted?"

"The second I heard you announce it was demons," she scoffed in reply. She looked around the small diner at the three frightened civilians and the eight or so demons pacing back and forth outside. "We're trapped," she announced unnecessarily. "So what do we do now?"

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**


	18. The Slopes of Erebor

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

Sam was reaching for his cell when the waitress, 'Meaghan' according to her name tag, spoke up. "My phone's not working," she announced, her voice shaky and frightened. She was holding her cell phone in the air, waving it around looking for a signal.

Had the situation not been so dire, Cas would have found it amusing how every single person other than him automatically drew their own cell phone from somewhere on their person and attempted the same thing.

"Land line," Sam said curtly, striding over to the phone on the wall behind the cash register. He picked it up and frowned, pressing the hang-up button a few times. "Nothing. They must have cut the lines. Damn, that was quick."

"And jammed the cell signal?" Tasha sounded skeptical. "That's not usual demon M.O."

"These aren't your usual demons," Cas stated. "They're no doubt working for Crowley."

"Crowley's just a demon like any other, isn't he?" Jo queried. "Maybe a bit more ambitious but..."

Cas shook his head, keeping his eyes on the demons pacing outside and a tight hold on the baby in his arms. "Before I lost my grace, I was investigating Crowley. He isn't even that old yet somehow he has made himself King of Hell. He possesses more than just ambition. He is intelligent, cunning and shrewd and holds a tremendous amount of power from the countless souls he has acquired in his dealings as a crossroads demon. We shouldn't underestimate him. I know I won't make that mistake again."

"None of us will," Sam agreed. "But he's not getting that baby."

Jo shook her head. "Course not. He'll use it to open another gate to Purgatory."

"This sucks." Tasha said suddenly. She was standing right in front of one of the big windows, a frown on her face as she stood at the glass staring down a pissed-looking female demon on the other side, ten inches away. "It's like being in a fishbowl."

Cas groaned when Tasha raised her middle finger and put her hand up to the glass. "Don't taunt them," he scolded.

"Won't matter," Sam pointed out. "It's not like they can hate us any more than they already do. They can only kill us once."

"They may have guns," Cas reminded them. "They can't cross the salt lines but they can shoot through the glass. Get away from the window, please Tash."

Tasha gave him a thoughtful look then stepped away from the glass and the demon glaring at her from the other side. "Good point," she admitted.

"How'd they find us anyway?" Jo wondered out loud. "The shifter Alpha can sense the baby but surely the demons can't."

Sam shook his head. "No idea. We were..."

"What the fuck is going on?" Granger interrupted, seeming to finally find his voice and taking a brave step forward. "Why are you all talking about demons and shit? Is this a gang thing?"

Sam gave him an incredulous look. "Do we look like we're a gang?"

"I don't know what you are but you sure ain't cops and you just killed a man." He pointed to the dead demon meatsuit on the diner floor. "I think me and Meaghan and the cook here should just leave. These people aren't after us."

"They're not people," Tasha told him flatly.

"And they'll kill you or worse the second you step out that door," Jo added. "They don't want you calling the cops or else they wouldn't have cut off the phones."

"I don't care what you say," Granger shook his head, wrapping his fingers around the waitress's elbow and starting towards the door. "We're outta here."

Sam stepped in front of them, not pointing his pistol at them but making very sure it was visible. "Don't make me tie you up," he threatened. "Or worse."

The cook took one look at the gun and instantly started shouting loudly in Portuguese, his arms waving agitatedly at all four hunters. Tasha answered him in his own language, getting a raised eyebrow out of Jo, who wasn't aware the brunette had spent much of her childhood in South and Central America. The only words she and Sam understood were demonio and fique seguro, _demon_ and _stay_ _safe_ , but whatever Tasha said seemed to be working because the cook eventually calmed down and started nodding his head. Sam turned his attention back to the demons outside and let Tasha deal with the civilians. She had them all moving to sit on the floor in the small space behind the counter when a loud crash sounded from the kitchen.

"Thought you salted the door back there!" Sam shouted, running to shut the door between the restaurant seating area and the kitchen. Jo was just a few steps behind him with the big box of salt in her hands.

"I did!" Tasha retorted, herding the civilians quickly to the only place with some cover and gesturing for them to hunker down and stay there.

The cook said something Sam didn't understand but this time Cas translated, having retained his angelic knowledge of nearly all the languages in existence. "There's a large hole from an old vent behind the supply shelf in the kitchen," the ex-angel repeated. "He says it was just boarded up with wood."

Sam didn't need to ask Tasha if she had salted the hole because the pounding on the door he had just locked between the diner and the kitchen left no question the demons were now inside. Jo handed Sam the box of salt and he started to pour a quick line across the threshold but didn't get to finish before the door flew open, hitting him with a thud and sending him sprawling.

Demons were suddenly charging through the doorway and all four hunters were firing their guns as fast as they could, each inwardly cursing themselves for not having taken the precaution of chalking a few devil's traps on the floor in the few minutes of peace they had been given. High-pitched screams sounded from behind the counter where the waitress, the cook, and the customer were crouched but the demons ignored them completely, racing instead for the four hunters. Bullets were flying and holy water was being flung but it was quickly clear they were outmatched.

A male demon fisted a hand in Jo's hair and slammed her head into the edge of a table, knocking her out instantly. It dropped her like a discarded gum wrapper and stepped over her towards the ex-angel. Cas was holding the baby and the demon approached him threateningly but made no move to strike him down; instead it simply cornered him and prevented him from reaching any of the others without forcing him into a physical confrontation he would never win without releasing or hurting the baby.

Sam took the brunt of the attack, the first two through the door charging him immediately. Since he was already on the floor, he was kicked by one demon before the second hauled him up and threw him, sending him crashing into the same smashed table he had taken his earlier beating on.

Tasha attacked the first demon that had come through the door, lunging on its back as it planted its kick in Sam's gut. She wrapped a rosary around its neck and tried to recite a quick exorcism but was thrown off after only the first few words. Sam rolled over to see her hit the wall and wished like hell he had insisted on at least keeping Ruby's knife. Leaving Dean's protection detail with both the knife and the Colt had left the rest of them nearly defenceless. That absurdly stupid decision had definitely not been made without his protest. It was the kind of foolish thing the old him would have agreed to.

He didn't make it to his feet before another demon was on him. By now, most of the demons that had been pacing outside were inside the diner or making their way in through the kitchen door. Sam shot the demon on top of him a few times, emptying his clip into its stomach. The bullets did cause it to cry out in pain and falter in its punches but they were silver, not iron, so they didn't cause any lasting damage. The demon recovered quickly and threw him into the wall once more as payback.

He could hear the baby crying and Cas's gun firing its last rounds also, clicking empty as the ex-angel kept squeezing the trigger. He managed a quick glimpse in their direction to see Cas tossing down the gun and throwing a useless punch at the two demons advancing on him. The baby was now on the bench seat behind him, still wrapped in his blanket and screaming at the top of his (her?) lungs. Cas dished out a couple more swings before taking a hard one to the gut that doubled him over. The next one to his face split his lip and sent him reeling backwards over into the next booth. The demon followed.

Sam could hear rather than see Tasha on the losing end of a fight in the corner as he lashed out with his feet at the two demons on top of him. _Damnit, they were all down!_ The demons were going to get the shifter baby and in doing so, steal his only lead to an Alpha. And the hunters were likely all going to get killed within the next few minutes. Sam didn't exactly experience fear at the prospect of dying, more like an indescribably strong urge to survive at all costs. Survival was the only thing that overruled his intense drive to hunt that Alpha down.

Unfortunately survival didn't seem a likely at this point. He felt the blows raining down on him harder and faster and knew his body was weakening as a result. His mind was foggy and he could barely hold his arms up to block the hits anymore, never mind strike back. His brain hardly registered the sound of breaking glass behind him and the new echoing gunshots being fired. He thought he heard a familiar voice calling his name but hadn't put a name to it by the time blackness swallowed him.

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

Cas was struggling for air and trying to pry strong fingers from around his neck when the demon choking him was suddenly distracted by the sound of breaking glass and a commotion near the front of the diner. It raised its head to see what was going on and a bullet hole instantly appeared in the center of its forehead. Its skin lit up in sporadic orange flashed before it toppled sideways, its hands releasing their deathly grip on the ex-angel's neck.

Five more shots rang out in steady succession and five more demons fell to the floor. The one snarling and punching a thrashing Tasha, the two taking turns beating the hell out of Sam, the one behind Cas leaning down to pick the baby up off the red vinyl diner seat, and the one standing near the unconscious form of Jo with its hand around the skinny little cook's neck. All five demons lit up then dropped dead. Cas looked over in time to see Dean stepping in through the broken window, the Colt in his hands.

The ex-angel let out a raspy groan of relief and rolled back onto the floor to catch his breath.

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

Tasha could see the front window from where she was lying on her back on the floor, trying to fend off a strong demon in an expensive suit who was punching and kicking her as he taunted her about slitting her throat next. She let out a pained grunt at the last kick but followed it up with a breathless huff of laughter at what she saw coming. There was Dean, marching up to the window with a look of fury and intense determination on his face.

There was a smashing sound then six shots rang out and six demons went down, including the one about to land a loafer in her gut. As he stepped in through the broken glass, Dean had his left arm held gingerly to his side and the smoking Colt held steadily out in front of him in his right. _Damn, he always was such a good shot._ Tasha felt her heart flutter and skip a beat at the beautiful sight despite the pain wracking her whole body from the beating she had been taking. Sometimes she still couldn't believe he was with her – that he loved _her_. How the fuck did she get so lucky? He was so fucking _bad ass_.

She was the first of the four rescued hunters to make it to her feet, scrambling over to Dean just as Bobby pulled Ruby's knife out the back of the only demon left alive. She was breathing heavily when she reached him and she simply fisted her hands in his shirt, pushing up to her tiptoes to plant a fierce kiss on his lips.

He was taken by surprise but reacted quickly enough to return the kiss before she pulled away.

"Do you have any idea how hot that was?" she breathed, her fingers still twisted in flannel.

His mouth spread into a wide grin as he looked down at her, that familiar cocky glint appearing in his eye for the first time in weeks. Tasha's breath caught as she held his gaze because for a brief moment, things were how they used to be. Gone was the tension and the guilt and fucked-up wall between them the succubus incident had created. There was just her and him and nothing else.

"Joanna Beth!"

The moment was broken by Ellen's panicked voice as the frantic mother rushed over the toppled chairs and dead bodies to reach her unmoving daughter. Tasha pulled away and looked around the room. Cas was slowly getting up, the baby was still crying, the elderly cook and the other civilians were poking their heads up from behind the counter. She felt Dean's body tense beside her when his head swung in Sam's direction. Sam wasn't moving.

"Sam!" he cried, striding over to squat next to the bleeding, still body of his brother. Two fingers moved quickly to the pulse point on the injured man's neck and Dean's head lowered over his chest for a long moment.

Tasha watched with bated breath. She saw Dean's worry but she couldn't think of that as Sam. She had no doubts the man lying unconscious on the floor was no longer the young hunter they all cared about. That was a cold, heartless, dangerous monster who just looked like Sam and had his memories. She swallowed, feeling guilty for even having such uncaring thoughts. She wanted the prick to be okay, but only because they needed that body to live. If they were to have any chance of bringing Sam back, he would need it and the memories it held. Besides, the last thing Dean needed right now was to watch what little was left of his brother die.

"He breathin'?" Bobby asked, his voice easily betraying his worry and his paternal love for the man Sam used to be.

Dean nodded, pulling off his jacket and bunching it up under Sam's head, brushing the dark bangs out of the way to closer examine the source of the blood streaking down the side of Sam's cheek. "Yeah. Took a couple of hits to the head but I think he'll be okay."

He pulled his button-up off also and dabbed the head wound gingerly with it for a moment, swallowing his worry and slowly pulling his composure back together. He brushed the dark bangs out of Sam's eyes. Unconscious, he looked so innocent and sweet, so much like the old Sam they all missed so dearly at this point. Unconscious, it almost _was_   him and seeing his brother this way – hurt and bleeding – had always been Dean's worst nightmare.

He finally stood up and as he did, turned to see Cas straightening up with the baby once again in his arms. An amused, lopsided smirk appeared on Dean's face as he took in how comfortable the always-awkward angel appeared to be with a newborn baby in his clasp. He kept forgetting Cas had done this before - with _his_   kids. "Everybody else okay?" Dean asked finally, looking around again.

Jo was stirring now and batting her hand at an overly anxious Ellen hovering over her.

"I'll take that as a yes," Dean summarized.

"Oh my God, you saved us!" the waitress all of a sudden squealed from where she stood behind the counter, looking frantically around the room then back at Dean. "You killed them all and saved us."

"Hey," Bobby griped, pointing at the one he had taken out with the knife. " _I_   got that one."

The cook started speaking quickly and frantically again, pointing wildly at the numerous dead bodies. Tasha replied calmly in his native tongue, explaining that the dead people were all demons and throwing in a little white lie that the people they had been possessing had already been dead. The old man had apparently lived much of his life in rural Brazil, believing many of the traditional legends and lore about supernatural beings and she had been surprised how easy it had been to convince him their attackers were demons. He eventually calmed down again and asked her politely if he and Meaghan could leave now.

"Você pode esperar cinco minutos?" she answered, asking him to give them five minutes to get themselves gone first.

The little man nodded his agreement, stepping back to fidget nervously next to the still stunned-looking Granger and the wide-eyed waitress clinging to the big man's arm.

Dean had been watching from where he stood next to Tasha and he tilted his head downwards, his mouth close to her ear. "Do you have any idea how sexy you sound when you speak Spanish?" he said in a low voice.

She didn't bother telling him it was Portuguese; she just grinned and leaned a little closer.

"Let's haul ass," Bobby suggested loudly, gesturing to Cas to help him carry Sam's inconveniently large bulk out to the cars.

Cas nodded and handed Tasha the baby. She was aware of the delighted and almost wistful look on Dean's face as he watched her rock the bundle slightly to try and get it to stop crying, which it hadn't done once since the shooting started.

"Heads up!" Ellen warned sharply as she straightened up with Jo's arm slung over her shoulder as extra support for the swaying blonde. "Trouble coming."

Cas and Bobby aborted their efforts, dropping Sam back down to the ground and everyone's gaze followed Ellen's out the front missing window to see two vans pulling up.

"Fuck," Tasha swore. "Is that more demons or the shifters?"

Either way they were screwed. The salt lines were destroyed and the silver bullets had been wasted on the dead demons.

Dean tensed and muttered a few choice swear words of his own under his breath. "I only have one bullet left," he said through gritted teeth, fingers curling around the Colt's trigger. The gun only held six plus one in the chamber. He had replaced the two he had used escaping the hospital but those had been the only spares Bobby had in his pocket. The rest were in the Impala's trunk at the far end of the parking lot.

"Better save it for the Alpha if that's shifters," Ellen pointed out.

But it wasn't shifters.

Samuel Campbell suddenly appeared out of the passenger side of one of the vans, stepping down and looking their way. He raised his arm to hold his men back as he approached the broken front window alone and peered inside, his expression grim. His eyes flitted around the room, taking in the numerous bodies on the floor before they fell on Sam.

"He alive?" he asked. It was hard to tell if there was genuine concern in his tone or not.

"What do you care?" Dean immediately challenged, taking an instinctive step in front of Tasha as Bobby did the same with Sam.

Samuel shot Dean a displeased glare but didn't answer the question. Everyone inside the diner remained silent and still, the tension in the air so thick it could be cut with a knife. Campbells were still piling out of the vans, including Christian and Johnny. There must have been close to a dozen, although none of them came any nearer the building and instead waited for instructions from Samuel. Damn, Gramps sure did run a tight ship.

Samuel's head tilted to get a line of sight past Dean at Tasha and the baby she held in her arms. "That the shifter baby?"

Dean moved his bulk more directly in front of the brunette, moving his arm so the Colt was also plainly visible. "Don't even think about it," he spat. He wasn't giving away his only chance at saving Sam's soul.

His grandfather let out a loud, disapproving exhale. "Really, Dean?" he chastised, giving an indicative nod at the dozen Campbell hunters behind him. "You're a little outnumbered, don't you think?" His eyes widened when they dropped to the Colt in Dean's hand. "Is that what I think it is?"

Dean simply raised his good arm and levelled the antique revolver at the older man's chest. "Don't think I won't use it," he threatened.

Samuel narrowed his eyes. ""Johnny, Christian, you three!" he snapped at the five Campbell men closest behind him. "Go take that gun from Dean and take the baby. The rest of you, you have my permission to shoot if they fire so much as a single shot."

The battered hunters inside all tensed as Campbells started filing in through the broken window and the door but nobody fired. Even if Sam hadn't been out cold and Jo barely staying upright, they were seriously outgunned and outmanned. Bobby widened his bulldog stance and snarled, practically daring anyone to come one step closer to the defenceless hunter unconscious at his feet. Ellen backed up with Jo's arm still slung over her shoulder until the two women were practically behind the counter with the three civilians. Dean and Cas stepped sideways, moving shoulder to shoulder to put Tasha and the baby squarely behind them.

"Don't come any closer," Dean spat at an approaching Christian, pulling the hammer back on the Colt in warning.

Christian just laughed and kept advancing, raising his own gun. "You shoot me and this is gonna become a bloodbath, Winchester," he said flatly. "It's twelve to what? Five? Six? Who do you think's gonna end up with that baby?" He stopped three feet away. "At least this way you live to get your ass kicked another day."

He reached his free hand out to take the Colt. Dean wanted nothing more than to punch the guy in the face or even shoot him between the eyes, but every word Christian had just said was true. They were outnumbered and almost out of ammo. If things escalated and a single shot was fired, the people he loved could all be killed in a matter of seconds. If it was just him, he wouldn't give a rat's ass and would fight to the bloody end but... but it wasn't just him. He turned the revolver in his grip to hand it over, already thinking of ways to get it back later. All of them included causing Christian some serious pain.

It took everything he had not to lash out and knock the smirk off Christian's face as the smug hunter took the best weapon they had from him.

Johnny and a couple of others had moved around Dean to take the baby but Cas and Tasha weren't being as compliant as the elder Winchester. Cas had tried to block the way and was being manhandled roughly aside and Tasha was swearing full volume and kicking out at Johnny, whose temper was clearly rising. She was backed up against the counter gripping the crying baby close to her chest when she landed a swift kick right between Johnny's legs. Dean stepped in and clocked the angered Campbell in the face before he could retaliate, sending him sprawling to the floor.

"No, wait!" he barked, raising his hands in submission and addressing the other three Campbells that were about to go into full brawling mode on them. He turned towards Tasha. "Tash, give them the baby."

She frowned at him, not hiding her displeasure. "We need it," she said simply, throwing a deliberate glance at Sam to demonstrate why.

"I know," Dean placated, keeping his voice calm. "We'll find another way. Trust me."

Her shoulders stiffened and her lips drew into a tight, straight line but she obeyed, stepping forward to hand the baby shapeshifter to the stocky Campbell who was just releasing Cas's arm. Dean breathed a sigh of relief. Tasha was usually a cautious hunter but when she was hurting emotionally or when it came to Dean or Sam's safety, she could be stubborn and reckless. He hadn't been sure she was going to see reason and give up the baby.

With the Alpha bait now in their custody, Samuel took possession of the Colt and ordered his hunters to search the Winchester group and relieve them of any other weapons. Dean stole a glance at Cas and was assured by the ex-angel's slight shake of the head that he didn't have his valuable angel-dagger on his person. Samuel then told his men to fall back and wait for him in the van as he apparently wanted to talk to his grandson in relative privacy. Christian and Johnny, who were clearly his most-trusted, were the only two he commanded to stay. Johnny was still holding the crying infant wrapped in its blanket and gave a startled cry when it turned suddenly from a blonde-haired girl to a little dark-skinned boy.

"You are a fool," Cas blurted before Samuel got a single word out.

The eldest Campbell narrowed his eyes at him. "You the empty vessel?" he questioned, a derogatory edge to his voice.

Cas's reply was cut-off by a commotion outside. The majority of the Campbells had been piling back into the vans when a truck pulled up, skidding to a dusty halt next to them. Mark, Gwen, and Doc emerged from the front cab and, unlike the others, they ignored Samuel's orders to stay out and pushed their way inside.

Doc's face in particular was angry. "These all demons?" he demanded of nobody in particular, looking around at the numerous dead bodies.

"Yep," Bobby answered from where he was standing in front of the still-unconscious Sam.

"Thought I told you three to stay in Illinois," Samuel growled, addressing his clearly less-loyal and possibly mutinous crewmembers.

"They come after you?" Doc continued, ignoring his boss and directing his question at the group of disarmed hunters instead.

"Yep," Bobby answered again.

"How'd they know you were here?" Instead of waiting for an answer this time, Doc turned to Samuel. "How'd the demons know the Winchesters were here?"

"Good question," Dean practically snarled. All eyes fell on Samuel, narrowing in accusation.

Samuel didn't even flinch. "I told Crowley," he admitted. "He just sent his demons to get the shifter baby and deliver it to us," he defended, speaking to Dean. "We had a man watching the baby's house as well as a few other suspected shifter babies, but all hell broke loose and you guys appeared outta the bushes, charged in, took the baby and ran before we could intercept. I called in Crowley when Darren lost you on the highway. If you had just handed the shifter over to them, his demons wouldn't have touched you."

Tasha and Cas both snorted in unison. "Even you don't believe that," Tasha accused.

"We were not given a peaceful option," Cas insisted.

"I probably just saved your lives," Samuel continued sternly. "You had a _shifter_   baby. A shifter baby that's going to attract an Alpha and you can't take on something that strong."

"Says who?" Dean challenged again, his fingers flexing around the imaginary grip of the revolver he _used_   to have in his hand.

Christian snorted, his arms folded across his chest. "Says us. Your angel lapdog lost his bite, remember?" He glanced at an unsteady Jo and a still-unconscious Sam and sneered. "And by the looks of it, your little gang seems a little worse for wear right now so why don't you leave the big fish to us, huh Winchester? We just did you a favor."

Dean clenched his free fist but stood firm. "The Colt belongs to us," he said evenly. "You had no right to take it."

Dean knew they weren't getting the revolver or the baby back, even if the three new Campbell arrivals who seemed to be on the fence joined their side. There were just too many guns and he had no idea if the cold, hard-core bunch of hunters milling about just outside would fire or not. He couldn't take the risk because if even one did, someone he loved might die.

"Are you working with an angel?" Cas demanded of Samuel, his blue eyes hardening into a steely glare.

"Yes," Samuel answered evenly.

"Who?" Cas pressed.

This time there was a slight hesitation before he answered. "His name's Zachariah."

Dean threw his hands in the air and snorted loudly. "You've got to be fucking kidding me! Zack? Mr. King Douchebag? He's the worst of the bunch! He's the one who wanted Lucifer freed to start with. He hates humans. He'll be the first one to reneg on whatever little deal you have going with him and go running to Michael."

Cas shook his head. "Dean, you weren't there at the time but Balthazar told the rest of us that Zachariah was cast out from Heaven for his failure to break the sixty-six seals."

Dean gave his friend a confused look. "So?"

"If Zachariah plans to take in the souls from Purgatory, then he probably plans on challenging Michael and Raphael. He would prevent them from ever releasing Lucifer."

"You're not saying we root for the son of a bitch, are you?" Dean was incredulous.

"No," Cas shook his head quickly. "Of course not. I am merely pointing out that Michael is determined to have his battle with Lucifer where as Zachariah will no longer support that."

"Lilith is in Lucifer's cage. She's the last seal so the cage can't be opened," Tasha argued.

Cas shrugged. "Michael created the cage. If there is another way, he will find it."

Samuel waved a hand in the air to get their attention. "See, even your angel vessel agrees with me, Dean"

"I most certainly do not," Cas said sternly. "I'm with Dean in this."

"Well I _don't_   agree with you, Samuel." Doc interjected suddenly. "I'm done with you. I don't work with demons. You may have the rest of the family convinced this is the only option but I'm out."

"Fine," Samuel replied without skipping a beat before turning to Mark and Gwen. "How about you two? You tucking tail and running too or are you still with me?"

There was a long pause before Mark answered. "I'm still in," he replied quietly, folding his arms across his chest and getting a disgusted shake of the head from Doc.

Gwen stared at her closest cousin for a moment looking torn before nodding and moving to stand beside him. "Me too."

"Mark!" Tasha exclaimed. "Seriously? You're gonna go along with this?"

Mark let out a long sigh before turning to the brunette. "I'm not agreeing with his methods, Tash, but the Alphas are back in play and Samuel's finding them." He rubbed a hand through his short locks and for a moment it seemed he was done but then he kept going. "For some reason, the Alphas are coming out of hiding from wherever they've been the past few centuries and the whole supernatural world is going crazy." His voice was quiet and he aimed his words directly at Tasha. Dean couldn't help but think this was the most he'd ever heard the blond man say at one time.

"We have to stop them," Mark continued, as if trying to convince himself as much as his audience. "A lot of people could die if we just let Alphas roam loose turning everything upside down. Samuel's got the resources and the know-how to take them out so yeah, I'm staying with him. We can always kill Crowley once we're done with him." He turned his blue eyes on the brunette. "Things are too fucked up to be so righteous, Tash."

It bothered Dean that Mark used the more familiar shortened version of Tasha's name but he didn't let it show. He had no doubts about her loyalty to him.

"Samuel's right about another thing," Gwen added, her tone surprisingly civil as she looked around the room at Tasha and her friends. "You'll all get killed if you try to take on an Alpha. There are fifteen hunters out here. Just let us take the baby and set the trap. You guys look like hell. Go home and let us take care of this."

"We can't go home!" Bobby jumped in angrily. "Because this asshole sent his demon boss Crowley after Sam and Dean so demons are staking out my house! If he thinks for one..."

He let his heated sentence trail off when a row of four more cars entered the remote parking lot and everybody's attention was once again drawn outside.

"What now?" Bobby groused, not even trying to hide his growing frustration. "Who the Hell is that?"

His question was answered fairly quickly when people started piling out of the cars and charging through the line of hunters outside. The Campbells were soon firing at them but the newcomers started shifting into... well, into the Campbells. No writhing and no goopy messes this time; they simply shimmered and changed instantly.

_New breed? Or enhanced power due to the presence of the shifter Alpha?_

Whatever it was, things got confusing fast as the shifters mingled among the real Campbells in the violent melee outside and nobody knew who to shoot except the fake version of themselves. Silver knives were swinging and silver bullets were flying but there was no doubt the Campbells were taking heavy casualties.

"Crap, shifters!" Dean hissed, heading instinctively for the front door only to be blocked by his grandfather.

"Stay in here, damnit!" the older man barked. "You don't have any weapons."

Dean frowned, unable to figure out why the family patriarch couldn't seem to make up his mind if he wanted the Winchesters safe or as demon-fodder. Right now he sounded like he actually cared. "Give me my gun back, then," he said coldly.

Samuel ignored him, instead ushering Christian and Johnny, who still had the baby, into the back kitchen. "You may as well get in there too," he told Dean, gesturing towards Sam and the rest of the group. "My men will hold them off and once we figure out if the Alpha's here..." he held up the Colt, "...I'll kill it."

Meaghan the waitress, the cook, and Granger the painter were already scurrying through the door into the back. Cas and Bobby heaved a stirring Sam up between them and followed suit without any argument. Ellen gave Dean an apologetic look and helped Jo in after them. Dean caught Tasha's eye and saw she was waiting for him to decide what to do. He gestured towards the kitchen.

"He's right. We got no weapons. Get in there."

"You too," she said, phrasing it almost as a question.

Dean threw a glance out the front. Mark, Doc, and Gwen were racing back outside to help their friends and every instinct he had screamed at him to join the brawl and go down fighting. Every instinct but one - the one that was telling him he had to look out for Sam, who was defenceless right now. And for Tasha, who would surely follow him out the door. And for Bobby and Ellen and Jo and Cas. And damnit, even for that little baby shifter.

He cursed under his breath and grabbed Tasha's wrist, dragging her behind him into the kitchen after Samuel. Let the Campbells deal with the shifters. It wasn't like he hadn't seen them take out worse foes - the Daevas came to mind. The Colt still had one bullet; that would have to be saved to take out the Alpha.

Thirty seconds later, he impatiently shoved a cursing Samuel out of the way to peek out the window in the door between the kitchen and the diner. He gasped at what he saw. The ground outside was littered with bodies. Even worse, several Campbells – or more likely shifters _looking_ like Campbells – were storming inside the diner, heading right for the kitchen door.

Dean spun to Johnny and Christian. "You got silver bullets?"

Before they could answer, the door was crashed open and people were flooding the room. Armed with nothing but a kitchen knife, Dean started swinging but was struck hard and slammed into a wall. Shots rang out from Johnny and Christian but the man who had hit Dean barely flinched.

"The Alpha!" Bobby yelled at Samuel, who had obviously been holding out for confirmation, knowing he only had one bullet. "That's the Alpha! Shoot the damn thing!"

But Samuel had taken a hard hit to the gut from one of the other shifters and the Colt now lay on the floor a few feet away from him. Cas and Tasha both lunged for it and Dean's heart seized when the Alpha turned in their direction. The room was crowded now and nobody knew who was really who in the chaos. A bearded man that Dean assumed was a shifter cut Tasha off and swung a fist at her head before she could get to the Colt. She ducked and retaliated with a flash of steel, sinking a kitchen knife into his shoulder.

This wasn't a fine dining restaurant. The cookware and cutlery were definitely not silver so the thing didn't go down. Instead it threw another punch that connected and knocked her to the floor before stepping quickly over her to lunge at Ellen, who was trying to shield an indignant Jo in a back corner. Dean got to his feet but was knocked right back down by a shifter that had taken Samuel's form, clothes and all. He cursed and spat out blood as he started the struggle to his feet all over again, glancing sideways to see Cas pinned to the wall by Bobby.

Well - obviously it wasn't Bobby. _Goddamnit, this was confusing as Hell!_

Johnny was backed into a corner clutching the baby tightly with Christian a few feet in front of him firing at anything behaving like a shifter. A couple went down but the Alpha still ignored the bite of his silver bullets and it started walking steadily in their direction. Dean saw Bobby, the real Bobby, go flying through the air when the older hunter tried to rush the Alpha and was swatted away like a pesky insect. Tasha was back on her feet and scrambled once again for the Colt on the floor but was blocked by the same shifter who had hit her before.

Amid the fists being aimed at his head, Dean watched as the shifter and another that looked like Mark both charged at Tasha from different directions. He cried her name out in futile warning and panic but was relieved when Christian's gun sounded and three shots took out both her attackers in an instant. She immediately lunged towards the Colt but her wrist was grabbed by the Alpha, who had paused in his march towards the baby upon sight of the lethal gun. The Father of all shifters started to yank her to her feet by her arm so she kicked out at the Colt, sending it skittering across the floor towards Cas, who had finally managed to break free from the fake-Bobby's grasp. Cas dropped to his knees, wrapped his hand around the revolver's grip, raised and leveled the barrel at the fuming Alpha, and fired.

The shot sounded different; louder and more muffled than the 'pop' of the silver bullets. It was different enough that the room fell silent for a split second, everyone and everything forgetting whatever fight they were in long enough to see the red blotch appear in the center of the Alpha's forehead, his eyes widen, and his body teeter and sway for a second before dropping bonelessly to the linoleum floor.

Tasha rolled away from where she was dropped and turned to stare wide-eyed at Cas. "Hey! You learned how to shoot!" she cheered, her eyes alight with adrenaline and glee. Cas grinned sheepishly back at her and just shrugged, his shoulders heaving as he was still trying to catch his breath from being choked by the Bobby-look-alike.

Christian fired two more shots and took out the two remaining shifters in the room, the fake-Samuel and the fake-Bobby. Gwen showed up suddenly in the doorway, eyes wild and silver kife in hand, and Christian swung his gun around to face her.

"No! Christian! It's really me!" she cried in alarm, raising her arms. He let out a sharp breath but lowered the gun.

Dean immediately swung his head to check on Sam, who was sitting with his back against the wall out of the fray, groggily trying to fight with his eyes to stay open. _Good enough_. The three civilians were crouched down in the corner next to the youngest Winchester, all still breathing. He scanned the rest of the kitchen, accounting for all those he cared about and finding them all alive and well. Even Samuel was alive, though he was struggling to a sitting position with his hand clutched over his chest and his mouth in a tight line of pain.

"Mark!" Gwen gasped, running forward and dropping to her knees next to the shifter Christian had dropped.

"That ain't him," Christian spat. "S'a fucken shifter."

"It **_is_** him!" Gwen cried, her voice hitching as she tapped her cousin's face. "He's not outside. He came in here to help..." Tears were welling in her eyes and they didn't take long to break loose and run down her cheeks. Everyone fell silent as they watched her feel for a pulse and pull an eyelid up to reveal a lifeless blue stare beneath it. "Shit, Mark," she sobbed. "Shit, he's dead."

Christian's face had blanched at the revelation and he stood gaping at the pair on the floor. "He was attacking," he stammered, at least having the decency to look aghast at what he had done.

Dean replayed the scene in his mind. The stocky, bearded shifter had been lunging at Tasha. The Mark-looking one had appeared to be doing the same but in hindsight, could have been lunging at the other shifter. A quick glance at Tasha told him she had just come to the same conclusion. He sent a silent prayer somewhere that excessive guilt was his thing, not hers.

Doc stormed in next, his eyes taking in the situation quickly. "Damn," he breathed, seeing the motionless hunter whose head was being cradled in Gwen's arms.

"I shot him," Christian blurted, his face still ashen.

Samuel made it to his feet and didn't bat an eyelash at the fallen hunter or his people's apparent angst over the loss. He drew a fresh Glock from the back of his pants. "We good outside?" he asked Doc.

Doc nodded. "We're clear," he said quietly. "Eight men down, but we're clear."

Samuel just nodded, as if hearing only good news. "Christian, get a jar or container and fill it with blood from the Alpha."

"What?" Christian stammered, still frozen where he stood.

"Just do it!" Samuel told him sternly. "There are other things at stake here. We need that blood."

Christian nodded dumbly and started moving, searching the shelves in the kitchen for a container. Samuel took the Colt from Cas and turned to Johnny. "Get that baby in the van and collect our downed men."

Johnny nodded and strode out the door. Samuel turned to Gwen next but Dean cut in.

"You're still going to give Crowley the Alpha blood?" he said incredulously. "After all this, you're gonna let him open that gate?"

His grandfather's dark eyes narrowed at him and Samuel fingered the gun in his hands in warning. "You know what's at stake."

Dean shook his head. "Don't bring Mom into this! She wouldn't want this. You killed an Alpha. Leave it at that, Samuel."

"I don't have a choice anymore," the older man snapped back.

"There's always a choice."

"Not anymore. This isn't just about bringing your mother back," Samuel admitted. "This is about saving her."

Dean's heart skipped a beat. "Saving her? From what? What have you done?"

Samuel bit his lip. "I tried to keep you and your brother out of this but you just wouldn't back off." There was more than a hint of blame in his words. "Now Crowley and Zachariah are doubting my loyalty and if I don't bring them what they want..." He hesitated, his free fist clenching at his side. "If I don't bring them what they want, Mary gets a one-way ticket downstairs."

Dean's stomach lurched and flipped over a dozen times. Mom? In Hell? Soft, cheery, lullaby-singing, loving Mom...the one fleeting memory he had of something good before the world turned violent and ugly in a rush of flames... in Hell.

_No._

"How could you?" he croaked, all he could get out past the rush of emotion and fear.

"Like I said, you left me no choice."

"Don't you dare blame Dean in all this you selfish bastard!" Tasha jumped in, stepping in front of the elder Winchester. "This is all your fault." She pointed to Mark on the floor and glared at Samuel. " _This_  is your fault."

"And if you give Crowley that blood, there'll be a lot more death on your hands," Bobby pitched in. "We're talking Purgatory, here! I thought you were supposed to be smart?"

"If I was smart, I'd shoot the bunch of you right here," Samuel replied icily. "I'm not the bad guy here." He turned to Gwen and Doc. "Come on," he said, his voice softening ever so slightly. "Get Mark in the van. We'll give him a proper hunter's funeral."

"Don't you touch him!" Gwen shouted vehemently, her wet eyes now hard and angry. "I'll take him home to his mom's. You can go fuck yourself."

Samuel gritted his teeth but didn't answer. Christian had filled a jar with Alpha blood and the two headed towards the door before Samuel stopped and turned back. "Bring the Alpha, too," he ordered Christian, taking the jar from him to free us the younger man's arms. "I don't want this bunch getting any bright ideas about opening gates of their own."

Christian obediently shuffled the Alpha's body into a fireman's carry and the two walked out of the kitchen to the vans without so much as a backward glance.

When they were gone, Dean swallowed and looked down at Gwen. "I'm sorry about Mark," he said sincerely.

She acknowledged his sympathy with a nod but didn't answer.

"Me too," Tasha said quietly. She earned herself a long stare from the female Campbell that ended with an eventual weak smile.

"Thanks, Tash," Gwen said without the snide tone her words usually held. "At least he went down fighting, right? It was what he would have wanted."

"Let's get out of here, Gwennie," Doc said gently, nudging her aside so he could pick up their lifeless friend and carry him out to their truck. "We'll take him home."

The three left and Cas turned to Dean with a frown. "Your grandfather took the baby," he stated, clearly not pleased about it. "He should not be entrusted with a baby."

Dean managed a tired smile. "You going all domestic on us, Cas?"

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

**_Later that day..._ **

"Crux crucis pontus..." Crowley's voice was steady as he recited the spell. Zachariah stood a few feet away, wringing his hands anxiously as he stared at the appearing hole in eager anticipation. The empty pickle jar that had held the Alpha blood was empty and sitting on the stainless steel counter in the old infirmary they had chosen as the ideal spot to have Zack gobble up a million stolen monster souls.

The dark, fluid shape on the wall burst open to become a gaping vortex and Crowley grinned smugly before dropping back. "Your turn," he gestured to Zachariah. "Do your thing and let's get this show on the road, shall we?"

The stern-faced angel stepped forward and reached forward towards the hole. "Come to Papa," he muttered, opening himself to absorb the Purgatory souls.

"Not so fast," came a small voice from beside him. The angel started and looked down to see a young blonde girl of about fifteen staring up at him.

"Who...who are you?" he demanded, unable to get a bead on her mentally with the rush of Purgatory power so closeby.

The door in front of him closed suddenly, leaving the room silent and still.

Zachariah spun to face Crowley. "What`s going on? I didn't get the souls yet. Open it back up!"

"I don't think so," the girl said, a voice of honey.

"Who are you?" Zachariah repeated, his eyes darting back to the demon in the room. "Is this your doing? Are you trying to pull a fast one on me?"

Crowley raised his hands in innocence. "Not my doing. I don't know who Goldilocks here is but I have a feeling she closed the gate."

"Of course I did," she informed them, standing face to chest with the now irate angel and not looking even remotely fearful.

Crowley tilted his head to look around the table to the spot on the floor where they had left the body of the shapeshifter Alpha, just in case more blood had been needed mid-spell. It was gone. He frowned. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but weren't you dead?"

She smiled at him. "I can't die, demon."

"I'm guessing you're not the Father of all Shifters then," Crowley said slowly.

"He was my son," was her reply. "I am Mother."

Zachariah's jaw dropped and he stared at her, eyes wide. "You can't exist over here," he hissed. "It isn't possible! How did you get through the gate?"

Mother smiled. "Oh but I can, angel. I've acquired a little something extra that allows me to exist here."

Zachariah narrowed his beady eyes at her. "A grace! You've got a grace. How did you… gurgghh..." His words were cut off when she stuck her hand into his chest and squeezed. Bright lights shot out of his eyes and she took a step back when he slumped to the floor, dead.

Crowley watched, more disappointed at his plan going south than upset over the loss of that sanctimonious prick of a partner he had been enduring of late. She turned towards him and smiled sweetly. "Angels first, demons next," she sang. "Then I'll take care of the humans." She took a step towards him, still smiling. "This is our world now."

"Hint taken," Crowley quipped before disappearing.

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**


	19. Silver Lining on an Apocalypse?

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

Dean sat alone on the top step of the wrap-around porch nursing a warm glass of brandy in his hands. It was a large cabin that Bobby had found them to hide out in - if you could even call it a cabin - a comfortable change from the usual tiny, remote hunter hideout shacks. It was secluded enough to be private but not so deep in the woods as to make Dean feel cut off and stir crazy like he usually did when forced to lay low.

It was the sometime in the small hours of the night, probably around two or three in the morning, and Dean figured this would be his last drink before he headed inside and went to bed. She should be asleep by now.

It had been five days since the chaos at the diner. Five days since Samuel had taken the Alpha blood and no doubt passed it on to Crowley. Five days since they had limped away from there and left the three civilians to explain the carnage, getting only meek promises from them not to mention the Winchesters. Five days since Bobby had led them here, to the hideout of an affluent businessman who had been rescued by a hunter several years ago and had taken to helping them in return.

It had been five days of expensive brandy and single malt scotch and fruitless research.

It had been four days since they had locked up Sam.

_x-x-x_

_They were sitting around the fireplace in the large living room, glasses of single malt scotch all round, discussing how to find and stop Crowley. It had only been one day but everyone was healing nicely from the beatings they had taken at the diner. Dean noticed Tasha was absent but didn't think much of it, assuming she was still sitting cross-legged in the bedroom Bobby had assigned as hers and Dean's, pouring over the laptop._

_Just as the thought crossed his mind, she appeared, entering the room with a dark and determined expression on her face that bristled the hairs on the back of Dean's neck. He watched her warily as she circled the perimeter of the room, unnoticed by the others until she was behind the couch where Sam and Cas were sitting._

_He saw the tazer in her hand an instant before it was jammed into the back of Sam's shoulder. His brother reacted violently, his back arching upwards and a strained choking sound coming from his mouth as he went stiff and eventually slid down onto the floor in a crumpled heap._

" _Tash!" Dean was on his feet in a second, reaching his twitching brother the same instant Tasha did. She had jumped over the couch and pounced on Sam, yanking the gun from the back of his pants and sending it skittering across the floor. Dean saw a flash of steel in her hands and reached instinctively to his own gun, his mind still catching up with his actions._

_Was she possessed? Would he shoot her to save Sam? Fuck. Fuck. **FUCK!** What was going on?_

_Relief flooded through him when he noticed it was handcuffs Tasha held in her hands and not a knife. He allowed her the benefit of the doubt and forced himself to stand still long enough for her to slap them on Sam before grabbing her wrist and yanking her upwards._

" _What the Hell are you doing?" he demanded fiercely, looking between the brunette in his grasp and a panting Sam on the floor._

" _Get the rest of his weapons!" was Tasha's urgent reply. "You know how good he is - I had to catch him off guard. Just get his damn weapons and I'll explain."_

_x-x-x_

Ellen and Bobby were guarding Sam tonight; watching him to make sure he didn't make it out of his restraints or the boarded up wine cellar. The night air was cool and a soft breeze licked at Dean's cheeks. He had his elbows resting on his knees and he dropped his head down between them with a tired sigh. He hadn't wanted to believe what Tasha had found – the news article online about the police discovering the body of an elderly lady in her freezer two doors down from the shifter baby house – until Cas and Jo had corroborated the facts and erased any doubt. No matter how hard he tried, Dean couldn't fool himself into believing any scenario that didn't involve his little brother killing an innocent lady simply for the convenience of her house.

 _'Location, location, location'_   he thought wryly.

Allowing Dean to be bitten by a succubus was one thing – he could forgive Sam for hurting him because well, he always did and frankly, he loved Sam more than he loved himself. But watching and waiting deliberately until Dean almost killed Tash was another thing entirely and killing civilians for the sake of a comfortable stake-out spot ... Jesus Christ that was _so_   far over the grey line hunters patrolled.

If Sam had been anyone else, Dean would have shot him already.

 **~x~x~x~x~x~x~** –

Five days they'd been here. Five days she had been hiding out in a cabin sharing a room with Dean and he had yet to touch her. It wasn't like before, right after they had given him the succubus cure and then in the hospital when he couldn't even look her in the eye, but there was still a gap between them she couldn't seem to close. She could tell guilt was still eating at him, among other things. They had spoken briefly on the first day, in a stolen moment after they had fled the diner and arrived here. He had apologized through emotional, broken sentences for almost killing her while infected with the succubus and for those other women, but even saying the words out loud had seemed to draw him deeper into his internalized angst.

She had assured him all was forgiven but it was obvious it wasn't. Oh, _she_ had forgiven _him_ – she had forgiven him the moment he'd passed out tied to that post after drinking the cure - but he clearly hadn't forgiven himself yet. It might have been one of the things about Dean Winchester that tugged at her heartstrings and filled her with a need to comfort and fix, but his propensity for self-blame was one of his most hurtful qualities. Hurtful to himself. She knew he was still torturing himself with guilt and feelings of unworthiness because in five days, he hadn't once kissed her properly, never mind made love to her.

She remembered the words of wisdom Bobby had shared with her in the hospital. _"Just give him a bit of time to digest what happened, bury it deep inside somewhere, and then he'll come around. He'll talk to you in his own time."_

She had been doing just that. Not very patiently because patience was definitely not one of her stronger virtues, but she not been pushing Dean, not confronting him, not calling him out on his avoidance. She was well aware he was deliberately staying up late and making sure to come to bed long after he thought she was asleep. She kept her eyes closed and lay still every night when he slipped into the room and slid quietly into the bed behind her only to be gone by the time she woke up in the morning.

Then, this afternoon, she had found herself outside by the woodpile, alone with Bobby. The older hunter had given her an awkward smile and hesitated a few times before striking up conversation.

_x-x-x_

" _So how are you and Dean doing, darlin? He still beating himself up?"_

_She shrugged. "He says we're okay but..." Talking feelings with anyone other than Dean was difficult for her. Talking about their sex life, or even lack of it, with Bobby Singer was... entirely unfathomable._

_Bobby grunted and nodded his head in apparent understanding. "Remember I told you to let him come round?" he asked, a little uncomfortably before turning away quickly and swinging the axe at the log he was chopping._

" _Uhh, yeah."_

_He swung a few more times until the piece was neatly cut into eighths. "Well, see, the thing is..." he said finally, "Sometimes the idjit needs a bit of a push."_

_Tasha blushed but a sudden snicker escaped her. For a guy who looked like he'd just come back from shooting squirrels for supper yelling 'Yeehaw! Get 'er done!', Bobby certainly was observant, not to mention sharp as a fucking tack._

" _Okay, I'll take that into consideration." She hid her reddened cheeks by placing one last log on top of the pile in her arms and marched quickly back up the path towards the cabin._

_Old geezer had a point. She wondered if Ellen had put him up it._

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

Dean downed the last drop of his brandy and sighed before rising stiffly to his feet. His boots sounded heavily on the timber deck as he slowly headed inside, allowing himself an inward prayer that Tasha was sleeping by now.

After having unprotected sex with two random barflies and a hooker, Dean had asked the doctor in the hospital to run some tests for STD's. Thankfully they had come up clean but he and Tasha had yet to fully climb out of the shadow of the succubus incident. Sure, he had apologized and she had insisted all was forgiven but ... but he couldn't forget the feel of her in his greedy grasp as he drove into her against the Impala. He had been so rough, so relentless, so emotionless. She hadn't said no but that was only because she had been under the succubus spell. Was that not still considered rape? Dean Winchester had lied, cheated, and conned countless women into bed in his lifetime but he had never, _ever_ done anything to one against her will.

He had wanted to turn to Tasha in their bed so many times the last few nights; to run his hand along her curves, to kiss her lips, her neck, her thighs, her _everywhere_ , begging and pleading for forgiveness and just losing himself her touch. Allowing her presence and her love to smother the fact that Crowley was out there opening gates to Purgatory, to overshadow the possibility his mother could be going to hell for Samuel's stupidity, and to maybe allow him to forget, for just one goddamn blissful moment, that his brother was as good as gone. He wanted - _needed_ \- the comfort he had always found in her arms but he just couldn't bring himself to touch her.

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

Tasha heard Dean coming into the bedroom and pulling off his boots quietly before the bed dipped softly as he lay down behind her. She closed her eyes and swallowed, longing for the days back at Bobby's when Dean had actually taken to sleeping naked, or at most in his underwear, and when a moment never went by that they were together in bed and not touching each other in some form or another. Even in sleep he always had a hand draped across her stomach or her head was on his chest or their legs were entwined. She lay still and listened to his lumbering breath, the faint smell of expensive brandy wafting her way. She could feel his eyes on her back for a moment and was about to turn around but the bed shifted again and she guessed from the feel that he had rolled onto his back and was settling in for sleep. It only took a few minutes for his breathing to even out and sleep to take him.

She felt a lump forming in her throat. She knew he was hurting and wanted more than anything for him to let her in like he always had before but... but she had felt him stiffen and make a quick excuse to leave every time in the past five days that she had so much as given him a playful squeeze or a lingering touch on the arm. He was shutting her out, keeping her at arm's length. She hadn't pushed for fear of him turning away altogether but now, lying in the darkness and feeling more alone than she had in her entire year without him, she thought of Bobby's revised words of advice at the wood pile today.

Fuck it. No more pussyfooting around. Dean was getting that nudge.

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

Dean was awoken from an agitated sleep plagued with visions of a yellow-eyed Sam with demon blood dripping down his chin by a strange but not entirely unpleasant sensation. His initial instinct to go for the knife under his pillow was swallowed by a rush of pleasure shooting through his every nerve ending. He wasn't sure but he thought a low moan might have escaped his lips as he came to.

Someone was touching him. He resisted the ingrained hunter-instinct to lash out at the unidentified assailant and lifted his head enough to peer down at the source of the pleasure. Tasha was kneeling between his legs, smiling up at him while one hand rubbed him gently through his jeans and the other pulled his leather belt out through the buckle. He let out a groggy moan.

"Hey babe," she smirked up at him, her nimble fingers not faltering in their task to open his jeans. "I'm sorry; did I wake you up?"

"Tash," he breathed, unable to make his hands push her away. God, no amount of self-loathing could resist what she was promising. It had been a while and damn, she was good at this.

She stopped her gentle massaging for a moment to grip his opened jeans by the waistband and pull them down, boxer-briefs in tow. He lifted his hips to help her, tipping his head back into the pillow with a low groan when she wrapped her fingers around his quickly-hardening length and started stroking. Letting her stay in charge somehow lessened the influence of that part of his brain telling him he had no right to touch her ever again.

That part of his brain was forever silenced when her tongue danced and flicked its way around his tip, sending a small spasm of pleasure right into his abdomen. "Ahhh, babe," he breathed, closing his eyes and letting her go to work. She licked a wet stripe down his length then back up again, her hand following her tongue. Up, down, up down, getting him good and wet. Then suddenly her lips were around the head, sucking gently for a moment before traveling down in a slick, hot path of bliss.

Dean's right hand instinctively moved to the back of her head, fisting in her hair as he tried to resist pulling her down harder on him. She moaned her approval and the added vibrations drew another groan from his throat. She worked him faster and faster, her mouth taking him in further and further with every bob of her head, a task made easier for her as he was now painfully hard. He could feel his sensitive tip hitting the back of her throat and his hips instinctively bucked upwards, begging for even more. She picked up the pace and his breath quickened, muscles beginning to twitch and spasm throughout his abdomen. He was vaguely aware the fingers of her free hand were entwined with those of his left, clenching together in the sheets by his side as he drew nearer and nearer to the brink. Her mouth was sucking every inch him, offering him the sweetest kind of friction when her teeth suddenly ran a gentle line up the underside of his entire length. The contrast of sensations made him involuntarily cry out and his hips once again thrust upwards as he released, emptying into her mouth with jerky spurts as he panted his way through it.

She continued to suck him, though more gently now, and she swallowed every drop she milked out of him. He lifted his head and groaned at the sight, her dark eyes locked on his as she sucked. God damn, even in the dim light of the moon floating in the window she was a stunning sight.

"Tash," was all he could manage for words through his heavy breathing and sudden rush of emotion. He pulled the hand of his still fisted in hers towards him and she let his softening length drop onto his stomach to crawl up over him, her lips crashing down onto his. She was careful to keep her weight off his chest but Dean barely noticed for he was immediately lost in her kiss.

He drove his tongue into her mouth like a starving man, desperate and hungry, one hand sliding around the back of her neck to pull her closer. Normally, he tactfully avoided a full-on kiss right after she had sucked him dry but at this moment, he didn't care. It didn't even register that he was tasting himself for all he could taste, smell, or feel was Tash. God he needed her. He needed her in so many ways it frightened him.

"I'm sorry," he rasped, his voice breathy as he pulled his lips off hers just enough to stare into her eyes. "God, I'm sorry, Tash. I'm so sorry."

She didn't need to ask what he was sorry about and there was no question this time he meant it. The raw emotion in his voice made it clear he wasn't just asking for her to forgive him; he was asking for permission to forgive himself.

She hovered over his chest, her face just inches away from his and her eyes brimming with sudden unshed tears. "Of course," she whispered back to him. "We're fine, Dean. I'm okay. I just want you back."

He didn't reply but simply nodded and pulled her head back down for another long, passionate kiss. Her knees were on either side of his waist and she was holding herself up by her hands as he lost himself and his heavy worries in her presence; her mouth, her lips, her tongue, her scent, her breathy moans, her hair tickling his neck.

After a long, deliriously wonderful few minutes, she pulled away and sat up, bearing her weight on his hips as she straddled him. Her fingers wrapped in the hem of her tank top and she pulled it up over her head and off. Dean's hands instinctively lifted to her bare breasts, cupping one in each palm as he began to roll the nipples between his thumbs and forefingers.

She gasped at the sensation, her hips rocking slightly in his lap as her breath sped up in reaction. Dean sat up immediately, his mouth finding its way to her left nipple as his hand still worked the right. Tasha tipped her head back and moaned, closing her eyes as he went to work.

"Unh, Dean," she whimpered breathlessly when his mouth left her breast with an obscene popping sound. Her fingers slid under his button-up and up over his shoulders, sliding the shirt back. He shrugged it the rest of the way off and quickly got rid of his t-shirt as well, wanting to feel her skin against his.

He heard her audible gasp at the sight of the bandage he still wore over his surgery scars. The incisions themselves hadn't been very long but the surgeon had made three in his attempt to find and remove all the bullet fragments without cutting through any bone, so the bandage was a fair size. Dean had forgotten that he hadn't let Tasha see it yet.

Her fingers now feathered a soft trail over the bandage and she leaned forward to place a gentle kiss just above it. "You haven't let me take care of you," she whispered. "You're gonna let me check on this for you."

He smirked, his hands moving to rest on her hips. "Nurse Natasha," he said, his voice a low purr as he rekindled an old private joke of theirs. "My favorite nurse." His fingers slipped under the sides of her underwear and she lifted to allow him to slide them down her thighs. "Mmmm, gonna clean my wounds, are you?"

She licked her lips with erotic show, slowly pulling her purple boy-cuts down one bent leg then tilting the other way to pull them down the other and off. "Oh Dean, there's nothing clean about what I'm going to do to you tonight," she promised.

Dean swallowed and let out a groan, his hands back on her hips as she ground them back and forth in his lap against his obviously re-hardening erection. He moved to sit up, his plan being to lay her down, climb on top, and ravish her but she stopped him, placing her palm on the unbandaged side of his chest.

"You're still injured and supposed to be taking it easy," she scolded in a sultry tone that left no mistaking her intent. "Let Nurse Natasha take care of you, baby."

Her suggestion was accompanied by a hand reaching down and stroking his length. Damn if he was gonna argue with that. "I'm at your mercy," he grinned, lying back down and soaking up the delicious sight of his girlfriend naked and swaying on top of him.

Unable to keep his hands to himself, he slid one between her open legs, running his long, middle finger through her wetness a few times before pushing it deep inside. She moaned and her fingers dug into his thighs behind her as she leaned back and allowed him to play, her eyes never leaving his. He moved his finger in and out slowly a few times, curling it upwards and twisting as he did so and drinking up her quivers and her moans. He added a second and picked up the pace, his thumb soon working her clit and her breath coming in desperate, ragged pants.

Still her eyes never left his.

"I love you," she panted.

"I love you too," he replied without missing a beat, curling his fingers again.

Gone was the tension, the guilt, the reservations, the lingering feelings of doubt about this ever working between them. The truth was staring down at him in those soft, brown, love-filled eyes of hers. Dean allowed himself to feel what he had always known, that he belonged with Tash and together, they were going to make it through whatever crap was coming and start that family he wanted so badly.

His visions of domestic bliss were swallowed by the sound of her cumming on his hand, her hips moving erratically as spasms shot through her body and her walls clenched tightly around his fingers. He grinned. "That was quick," he gloated, revelling in the familiar tease.

"I thought I was supposed to be taking care of you," she retorted through broken breaths as he withdrew his soaked fingers and trailed them across her pouting lips. He groaned when she took them in her mouth, wrapping her lips around them and sucking as she had done to his dick just moments before. Still without taking her eyes off his, she shifted her hips and a second later, Dean was hit with a wave of blissful pleasure as she lowered herself onto him.

"Oh, babe, yes," he moaned.

She began to rock gently, working her hips as he slid in and out of her at a slow pace. They moaned in unison and she bent down to probe his mouth gently with her tongue. She kept riding him slowly, gasping into his mouth every now and again when he shifted and hit her most sensitive spot. The fingers on both her hands clenched around his and she would push onto him a little harder for a couple of strokes before easing up again. Her eyes were closed now and her mouth partly open in an expression of lust. Dean could feel her thighs twitching in restraint and groaned with realization that she was holding back.

"Harder," he told her, his voice raspy with need.

"Can't..." she whimpered. "You're injured... I don't want... to hurt... you."

He released her hands and gripped her hips, urging her to move faster. "I'm fine, babe. I won't break, I promise."

She finally responded to his encouragement, thrusting harder with every rock of her hips, taking him deeper and deeper each time. Her moans escalated and she threw her head back and cried out in pure bliss. Dean struggled to quiet his own moans as she began to bounce up and down on him, her fingers digging into his thighs behind her as she used them for leverage.

They were both panting and beads of sweat were forming on her gloriously naked torso above him. It was a heavenly sight but a rush of intense need for release swept through Dean and he gripped her waist tightly, dragging her down onto the bed next to him. He turned on his right side so his whole body was pressed up against her back and he pulled her leg up over his, leaning in to nibble and suck on her neck as he did so.

"Mmmnn," she moaned. "I love it when you manhandle me."

Dean snickered, guiding his length between her legs from behind and thrusting inside with one hard stroke.

"Unnhh!" she cried out, her hand reaching back to pull his hip towards her, trying to get him even deeper inside.

Dean pulled out and slammed back in again and again and again, enjoying her breathless squeals of delight at the delicious angle. "See babe," he grunted in her ear as his hips set a brutal pace and he pushed her upper leg even farther into the air. "A little bullet wound's not gonna keep me from enjoying this fucking sexy body of yours."

Romantic sweet-nothings had never been Dean's forté.

He spread her legs even farther - _fuck, she was flexible_ \- pulling one of them practically up over his shoulder. He propped himself up on his elbow so he could get a good view over her body at her breasts, which were bouncing up and down in time with his harsh thrusts. The fingers of her free hand were fisting in the sheets in front of her and she was panting hard between raspy pleas to God and Dean and Jesus Christ Almighty. He reached his hand down between her legs and started playing her clit while he continued to pound into her from behind.

"Oh Fuck! Uh... uh... Dean!" Her moans filled the room and he realized almost smugly everyone in the cabin would know tomorrow that he and Tasha had resolved their issues. God he loved her lack of restraint in the bedroom. It only made him want to go harder and faster.

Despite the position aimed at keeping any strain off his left side, he was feeling the pressure in his bruised chest muscles but he kept going, slamming repeatedly into her wet warmth, driving in and out with increased fervor. The feel of her clenching around him and the rhythmic sound of wet, slapping skin was quickly drawing him near his peak and he increased his ministrations with his finger to bring her over with him.

Finally she screamed, her back bowing and her whole body stiffening as she exploded, hot wetness flooding his dick as he kept pumping in and out of her, fucking her right through her raging orgasm. The overwhelming sensations threw off his rhythm and his last few thrusts were erratic, sliding in and out of her with obscene squelching sounds before he rammed his full length deep inside and held it there, groaning and digging his fingers into her hip as he came.

He rolled back onto the bed panting, sliding out of her flaccid and spent. She turned her body around feebly, her chest heaving as she flopped down next to him, automatically draping a leg over his.

"God, we're good together," she said breathlessly, grinning up at him.

He grinned back, tucking an arm beneath her and pressing a kiss of agreement to her temple. "Yeah. That Nurse Natasha has a great bedside manner," he chuckled.

He felt her laugh resonate through his exhausted chest muscles. "Next time I'll wear the outfit," she teased.

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

Dean hadn't realized just how much he had been needing Tasha and the closeness they shared until he had her back again, that chasm of guilt and shame between them finally gone. He lay on his back, naked and spent, enjoying the feel of her cuddled next to him, pressing against him and half-draped over him as if attempting to achieve every square inch of bodily contact physically possible. His hand drew light, languid circles on her shoulder and her breath fanned across his chest as the heavy worries he had been carrying around inside the past few days spilled out of him.

"I mean, he's my little brother," he was telling her. "I know he's not Sam anymore and I know he's no better than the monsters we hunt but... but I can't help but see _Sam_ every time I look at him. Maybe I just want it to be him so bad. You know what I did last time I lost him - the deal - fuck, I'd do it again now if I could. In a heartbeat."

"Hey," she interrupted quickly, tilting her head to look him in the eye. "Don't even think it. Even if you could, that's not an option. That would kill _me_. We'll find another lead to an Alpha and we'll get Sam back, don't worry. Bobby's on it."

Dean swallowed, realizing she hadn't even contemplated what he knew needed done. "I had a long talk with Cas today," he admitted, his voice strained. "He told me straight up there's no way we can find a single soul in Purgatory. Bobby and Ellen's research tells us the same thing. It can't be summoned like a demon and we can't know where it is to open a gate right by it. Cas knows he's not getting his grace back. Even if we found an Alpha and somehow managed to get it's blood, it wouldn't do us any good." He felt his throat constrict and paused for a few seconds to regain his composure. "It wouldn't do _Sam_ any good," he finished.

"But we can't just leave him the way he is," Tasha frowned, not catching on. "With no conscience, he's so void of goodness he's basically evil."

"You're right," Dean whispered, catching her confused gaze and holding it. "We can't just leave him."

He saw the moment realization dawned on her. "Oh my God," she breathed, the color draining from her face. "Dean..."

He averted his eyes, unable to face her expression of horror any longer. She remained silent a long time, her head lying still on the right side of his chest.

"God, I'm so sorry," she said finally, her voice shaky. "I guess didn't think the situation through. I didn't realize you had this weight on you this whole time, Dean." She traced a finger along the edges of his bandage. "What are you going to do?"

"I don't know." His voice broke at the end of the sentence and he swallowed down a sob, releived to finally be sharing his burden. "Maybe killing the old lady was just a one-off thing. Maybe he won't do anything else that bad..." He pressed a needy kiss to the top of her head. "We can't keep him locked up forever. He'll escape eventually. God, I... What do you think, Tash? I know he's a dick like this but has he done anything else that crosses the line to that extent? Anything that makes him an actual, real danger to people?" He was aware his tone was pleading, practically begging for her to give him a reason to spare his brother.

She kept quiet and looked away, her finger continuing its repeated path on his chest. Finally she shook her head and looked up at him. "No, the old lady was it," she said evenly.

They may have been together for only a few months accumulatively, but Dean was good at reading Tasha by now. The double twitch of her finger. The way her lips pulled slightly to the right. He knew her well enough to know she wasn't being entirely forthcoming but he didn't press the issue. In all honesty, he didn't want there to be anything else.

He nodded and wrapped her entire hand in his, pulling it up to touch his lips. He listened to the beating of her heart as they lay in close silence for a long few minutes before he was jerked out of his dark thoughts by a sudden shudder from her body. He looked down to see tears falling and within a few seconds, his arms were around her and she was sobbing openly into his neck. Unwanted tears escaped his own eyes as he held her close but he remained silent, seeing no point in empty words of comfort neither of them would believe.

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

The next morning Dean woke up with Tasha still asleep in his arms, a welcome change from the past couple of weeks. He slid out from under her slowly, regretfully, and lowered her head gently to the pillow. A minute later he was dressed and heading downstairs to the cellar to relieve Bobby and Ellen from prisoner guard-duty.

The older pair was thankful to see him and hurriedly took their leave, cautioning him that Sam had been trying to work loose the splice on the heavy piece of metal pipe they had him chained to. Dean acknowledged the warning with a somber nod and stood stiffly by the door until they had gone, closing it firmly behind them. He gave his brother a long, hard stare before dragging a chair from the edge of the room to just a few feet away from where Sam sat on the floor. He twirled it backwards and straddled it, folding his hands on top of the backrest.

Another couple of minutes passed in silence before Sam finally arched an eyebrow at Dean. "You going to say something or just stare at me all day?"

"What is there to say, Sam?"

"Look, I don't know how the old lady got in the freezer."

"You know damn well how she got there. You put her there."

"I may not have a soul, Dean, but I'm still Sam. I don't kill people. How many times do we have to go over this?"

"As many times as I say so!" Dean snapped.

"I'm still your brother."

Dean snorted. "My brother wouldn't have let Jo drive my car for four days."

Sam's lips curled up in a playful smile. "Yeah, yeah. Winchesters only. I know. Sorry."

"Are you?"

"Am I what?"

"Sorry."

The prisoner's shoulders slumped and the chains on his wrist shackles rattled. He had escaped regular handcuffs twice, forcing his captors to resort to something a lot harder to pick. "Of course I'm sorry, Dean. I'm sorry you think I'm some kind of monster."

Dean's fingers tightened around the wooden frame of the chair back. "We can't get your soul back," he blurted. Sam just gave him a blank look and Dean's jaw tightened at the lack of reaction. "There's no way to get it out and we can't keep you locked up here forever..." He paused. "So, you see, that leaves me with quite the dilemma," he added deliberately.

His meaning wasn't missed and Sam's hazel eyes darkened as they held his gaze.

"You going to kill me, Dean?"

Dean swallowed and squared his jaw. "I haven't decided yet," he said truthfully.

Sam nodded slowly. "So you're going to obey Dad's last order after all, huh?"

"What, the 'save you or kill you' one?" Dean repeated the command that had haunted him for years. "I said I hadn't decided yet."

His younger brother leaned back, resting his head against the cellar wall. "Back to being Daddy's little soldier. Jesus, think for yourself for once. You know I'm still me."

"That's just it. I know you're not."

An exasperated-sounding huff escaped Sam. "I don't know what you want from me."

"Damnit, Sam! I want you to give me _something_ , some evidence, some reason not to..." He couldn't even say the words.

Sam stretched his long legs out in front of him. "My name is Sam Winchester," he said slowly. "I was born May second, 1983. I lost my front tooth when I was six. It wasn't ready to come out but you got so tired of Dad griping at me to stop wiggling it that you knocked it out with your fist and pretended it was an accident. Then that night you put your Whitesnake, Slip of the Tongue cassette tape under my pillow and said the tooth fairy must have left it for me for being so brave."

Dean permitted himself a timid smile at the memory. "I wanted to make sure you didn't tell Dad."

"No, you felt bad for hitting me," Sam corrected. "Because you're my big brother."

Dean swallowed but remained silent.

"Remember the time in Blue Rock when Dad got stinking drunk and passed out on my birthday?" Sam continued. "I was what, turning ten? You took his keys and stole the Impala and took me to the drive-in movie. Now, what was playing again? Oh yeah, Jurassic Park." Sam chuckled, looking very convincingly like he was retelling a fond memory. "Of course, then this cheerleader from your school showed up and you kicked me out of the car. I had to watch the movie from the concession stand while you made out with Marnie Something-or-other."

"Marnie Ryerson, and I did way more than making out. And hey, I bought you extra popcorn," Dean defended, going along with the ruse though his heart was heavy.

"Yeah, you did," Sam conceded. "You always came through for me in the end." He locked his eyes on Dean's to drive his point home. "You've always looked out for me, Dean. It's who you are."

"I know what you're doing," Dean sighed, tearing his gaze away from the 'puppy-eyes' fixed on him. He was normally putty in seconds when that expression was turned on him but this version was eerily cold and lacking its usual soulful pull. "This trip down memory lane doesn't change the fact that you killed a person and you don't care; that you would do it again if it suited you. If I let you. These are just memories to you - Sam's memories. You may remember all the stuff he knows but you don't _feel_ any of it."

"I do, Dean. I mean, it's different now - these feelings - but they're still there. I'm not a monster. I helped track down the stuff for the succubus cure when you got infected..."

"You mean when you let me get infected," Dean interjected. "When you practically orchestrated it."

"Momentary lapse in judgement," Sam dismissed. "I ran back into Bobby's to save Cas and Tash when Crowley's demons were attacking. I tried to protect them at Crowley's house and again the diner. I still have your backs, man. Can't you see that? I remember we're family. That hasn't changed."

Dean's eyes grew sad at Sam's poor choice of words, only reinforcing Dean's point. "You _remember_   we're family. You don't _feel_   it, Sam."

"I _know_ it," Sam clarified. "And family's supposed to protect each other, right? I screwed up so royally last year with the whole Ruby thing and you forgave me. Why? Because I'm your brother. And I proved myself after that, didn't I? I redeemed myself. Please, Dean, let me prove to you I'm still your brother."

"You're an empty shell of my brother. And it's not just me you're a danger to."

A nervous edge appeared in Sam's voice, a clear sign he was getting worried. "You're supposed to be the one person I can count on to have my back, Dean. To protect me, even from myself. To save me, not to kill me."

"Stop it," Dean rasped, Sam's words tearing at his insides. "Just stop it."

"Please, Dean. I'm still in here. You have to keep trying. I'm still your responsibility."

The elder Winchester closed his eyes and lowered his forehead onto his clenched fists on the chair back.

 _His responsibility_. Those words in this situation were the most damning he had ever heard. But they were true. If it came down to it, Dean would take care of Sam himself. He prayed it wouldn't come down to it but... oh holy fuck, mother of God... he wasn't seeing any other option.

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

Cas was on the shift downstairs guarding Sam when Crowley showed up, startling a yelp out of Ellen who was handing out sandwiches to the hungry pack of restless hunters on the huge back porch.

"Ahhh, just in time for grub," the demon announced cheerily, rubbing his hands together and ignoring the four guns now aimed at him. He snatched a sandwich from Jo's hand and pried it open, his lip curling in distaste at what he found. Tossing it off the deck he looked around at them with an expectant look.

"How the hell did you find us you son of a bitch?" Dean demanded, painfully aware they had no effective weapons left and since they were outside, no devil's traps in the immediate vicinity.

The demon apparently took the question as a welcoming greeting because he sauntered over to the half-full whiskey bottle on the table and examined its label casually. "Hmmm," he raised an approving eyebrow at the impressive year. "Well, I tell you, I had to pull out all the stops to get a bead on you. It's a lot harder without my angel sidekick."

"You mean Zachariah," Bobby accused.

Crowley nodded. "Yes, that's him. Bit of a pretentious prick if you ask me but he was handy to have around in a pinch."

"Wait, _was_?" Jo picked up on the past tense.

"Not just a pretty face, are you sweetheart?" Crowley commented, eyeing the blonde appraisingly. "No, I'm afraid my business relationship with Mr. Pompous-Wings came to rather an abrupt end."

"What, he stab you in the back?" Bobby snorted. "Coulda told ya angels weren't no more trustworthy than demons."

"No, he died," Crowley said flatly. "That's actually why I'm here."

"Just spill it, Crowley," Dean said impatiently, feeling a small sense of satisfaction at the announcement of King-Douchebag's demise. "Give me one reason I shouldn't kill you right now. I still owe you in a big way."

Crowley turned to look at him. "Save it, Rambo. You wouldn't stand a chance."

"I'd be willing to give it a try," Dean fired back, ignoring Tasha's hand on his arm trying to calm him down and stop him from doing anything rash.

"Without these?" Crowley asked smugly, holding up his hands that somehow all of a sudden held the Colt and Ruby's knife.

_Well if that wasn't proof Samuel had gone right to Crowley with the Alpha blood, Dean didn't know what was._

The demon looked around the deck at each of them in turn. "Well well, now I have your undivided attention, don't I?"

"What do you want, Crowley?" Dean demanded, his voice tight with barely restrained anger. This asshole had shot him, held Tasha prisoner, and thrown Sam and Cas into Purgatory. Anything that happened to Sam now, even if it was at Dean's hands, was on Crowley.

Cas chose that moment to come out of the cabin for his sandwich, stopping short when he saw the demon leaning back against the railing like he was hanging out with friends. "Crowley!" he hissed, his empty hand flexing by his side. Dean knew the ex-angel was wishing he had his angel dagger in his grasp, despite the fact that nobody really knew if it would even work on the King of Hell.

Crowley's face lit up at Cas's appearance and he raised a hand as if greeting an old friend. "Castiel," he announced. Then just as quickly, his smile disappeared and his eyes narrowed. "Blowed if it isn't the nitwit of an angel who gave the Mother of All his sodding grace."

"Wait, the Mother who?" Bobby questioned.

"Cas's grace?" Jo added.

"The Mother of All," Crowley elaborated. "As in all creatures of evil intent and supernatural origin. All the things that go bump in the night. Well, everything not a demon." The hunters all just stared at him, not sure what he was saying and the demon rolled his eyes, exhaling impatiently. "She's the Mother of all the Alphas," he explained. "She lives in Purgatory and, thanks to some clever manoeuvring by God when he created the place, she can't come over here. Well, she couldn't anyway until she got her greedy hands on an angel grace. One I'm guessing you left lying around on your little day trip over there." The last snidely-delivered line was aimed right at Cas, who just stood there staring with a vaguely stunned look on his face.

"Hey, you're the dumbass who sent him there!" Tasha defended, earning herself a glare from the King of Hell.

"Keep your little harlot in line, Dean, or she'll end up on one of my racks."

Dean took a hasty step forward, moving slightly in front of the brunette. "Look, you still haven't explained what you're doing here."

"Right," Crowley nodded, his mood perking up again almost instantly. "I'm here to make a deal."

"Well, you can take the demon out of the crossroads..." Bobby muttered.

Crowley ignored him. "You find Mother, who goes by Eve now from what I hear, and kill her. In return, I give you your little knife and your gun back."

"Why don't you kill her?" Jo asked.

The demon shrugged. "I rather value my life."

"Why should we do your dirty work for you?" Ellen challenged.

"Because this bitch can take out angels and demons with hardly a bat of her eyelashes. Think how easy wiping out the human race will be for her. It is her intention, ladies and gentlemen, to rid this world of demons, angels, and humans alike to let her little bastard children have the run of the place. She might keep a few of you around but only for food or sport. Don't think you'll enjoy that Apocalypse any more than you would have enjoyed the one where Lucifer became Bossman. I assure you, you'll be going up against her at some point anyway. Might as well be with the help of these little toys here. Although," he added with a distasteful sneer, "There are five things that Colt won't work on and I'm afraid she's one of them."

"If she's so powerful and the Colt won't work, then how do we kill her?" Tasha asked the question everyone was thinking.

Crowley shrugged one shoulder. "You'll come up with something. You're a resourceful lot. After all, you managed to stop Lucifer from getting out. Besides, your Castiel here probably knows more than I do about Eve."

"Why are you coming to us and not to Samuel Campbell?" Bobby asked suspiciously. "He's got the men and the resources."

"Ahh, but your little Scooby gang impresses me more. If I were a gambling man, I'd put my money on you." He grinned. "Which I am so... I am."

"If we're gonna do this, we're gonna want more than the Colt and the knife out of it," said Dean bluntly.

Crowley didn't hide his satisfied smile at Dean's willingness to negotiate. "Name your price."

"I want my mother left alone. Mary Winchester stays in Heaven where she belongs."

"Done. That was Zachariah's little pet project anyway."

"Sam and Dean are off your hit list," Tasha added. "For good."

Crowley made a pretense of pondering the request before nodding. "Well I wouldn't kill them before they got the job done anyway, but I guess I could agree to peacefully coincide if they succeed."

"All of us," Dean added, waving his hand around at the others too. "You leave all of us alone."

"Done. So do we have a deal then?" Crowley ventured. "Shall I be off?"

"Wait, you expect us to just take your word on it?" Tasha exclaimed in disbelief.

Dean held up a hand to dismiss her concern. "He's a crossroads demon. He can't squelch on a deal."

"Uh, a deal _sealed_ _with a kiss_ ," Bobby pointed out the added requirement.

Crowley arched a suggestive eyebrow at the older hunter. "You volunteering?"

Bobby snarled. "Don't you wish."

The demon didn't seem offended. "Sorry to burst your bubble Mr. Midwest-in-a-Vest, but you're not my type." His head swiveled to face Cas and a smug smile spread across his face. "How about it, Feathers? Seal the deal of the century and buy your friends a fighting chance?"

Cas's back stiffened and his eyebrows knitted into an uncomfortable frown.

"Going once, going twice..." Crowley taunted.

"Fine," Cas snapped, shuffling reluctantly towards the demon, who seemed to be enjoying himself entirely too much.

Crowley leaned forward and cupped Cas's face with both hands, tilting his head and planting a firm kiss on the unenthusiastic man's mouth. Despite the situation, Dean couldn't help but snicker when the King of Hell slipped the ex-angel the tongue.

"Way to take one for the team, Cas," he heard Jo mutter with an amused giggle.

A second later Crowley was gone, the Colt and the demon-killing knife left lying on the wooden porch-table.

Bobby let out a huff of displeasure at the turn of events. "Well, ain't this a rotten pickle gone bad. Things just keep getting worse."

"Not everything." Dean shook his head.

The older hunter aimed an incredulous look at him. "Son, what part of _'the Mother-of-All is hell-bent on destroying humanity_ ' didn't you get?"

Dean swallowed, allowing himself just a glimmer of hope. "Maybe there's a silver lining to all this," he said sheepishly. "Cas's grace is inside this Eve chick, right? And she's here, in our world now." He looked around at his family. "And you never know," he added more quietly, hardly daring to say the words aloud. "Maybe Sam's soul's in there too."

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**


	20. Things Heat Up

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

Bobby was on the phone within minutes, calling everyone he knew for the second, third, or even fourth time in less than two weeks. This time he wasn't looking for information on Crowley or succubus or retrieving something from Purgatory. This time he was looking for information on Eve, the 'Mother of All'. His hunter grapevine didn't turn up a way to kill her but it did reveal some interesting going-ons in the supernatural world. There had been a large number of incidents in the past few days that could be pegged as demon deaths by those who knew what to look for and a few more that appeared to be angel deaths, with wing-shaped charred areas on either side of the bodies.

Meanwhile, Dean pressed Cas to tell them everything he knew about Eve but unfortunately, that didn't turn out to be much more than they already knew. He had heard of her but angels in general didn't pay much attention to mentions of the Mother because, as Crowley had mentioned, God had banished her to Purgatory and made it so she couldn't exist in this realm. He did know she was one of the few beings capable of killing an angel and that even being in her presence, Heaven's Soldiers were rendered completely powerless. In fact, that was the reason angels had never even attempted to venture into Purgatory.

"That's all you got, Cas?" Dean's expression was pleading.

"I'm sorry. I don't know how to kill her, much less how to retrieve my grace from her before doing so." Cas furrowed his brow in thought. "But Balthazar is a Keeper of Artifacts. He knows much more about such things. I shall summon him."

A few minutes later, the small group was standing around the chalked symbols on the living room floor of the cabin, trying hard to ignore the resilient stench of the spell components Cas had just burned in the silver bowl. Their impatience was starting to show with fidgeting stances and pressed lips but no sign of Balthazar.

Dean leaned in to Tasha, who was standing next to him being unusually quiet. "Frigging unreliable angels," he griped. "Why don't me and you go downstairs and talk to Sam? We need to go over all the details of what happened when he and Cas were over there in Purgatory - see if there's a chance his soul got hijacked by Monster Mommy."

Tasha shuffled her feet and gave him a look he was sure she intended to be thoughtful but that he knew was hiding more than that, her way of stalling before she inevitably came up with an excuse. It suddenly occurred to him she hadn't once taken a Sam guard-duty shift since arriving here and hadn't once gone to see him downstairs. Considering she had been the only one who didn't know about Sam's role in Dean getting infected by the succubus and had reportedly been giving the soulless man the benefit of the doubt, Dean wondered what had happened to change that. It had to be more than the discovery of the woman Sam had killed, because the Tasha he knew would be in Sam's face about that, demanding an explanation and searching for some sign of remorse, as he had. Tasha confronted; she didn't avoid.

So he wasn't surprised when the expected excuse came. "Why don't you and Jo do it?" she suggested. "I'd really like to stay up here and meet this Balthazar dude."

Dean just nodded, not wanting to push. A nagging feeling of dread seeded itself in the pit of his stomach but he pushed it aside. She'd tell him what happened eventually and right now, he didn't need any more reason to hate the thing that looked like his brother. He beckoned to Jo and the blonde followed him downstairs while the rest waited on Balthazar answering Cas's call.

Having been left alone and unguarded for the better part of fifteen minutes, Sam had almost worked loose the pipe he was shackled to. He didn't bother to hide his disappointment when his escape attempt was interrupted by Dean and Jo, but he listened intently as Dean informed him of Crowley's visit while re-securing the pipe.

"So this Eve is the Mother of all the Alphas?" Sam repeated. "I mean, that's like the equivalent of God to all monsters." His eyes were brimming with eagerness. "And she's got an angel grace to boot? That's the ultimate game! Of course we'll hunt her."

"We?" Jo snorted. "We're a 'we' again all of a sudden?"

"We always were," Sam said flatly. "You may not have agreed with my methods but our goals are the same. I'll admit it's far too exhausting for me to keep up the pretense of being Mr. Sensitive twenty-four seven so I may hurt the occasional feeling, but we're still on the same side here. I've been trying to explain that to Dean."

"Look, the reason I'm telling you all this isn't because we want your help," Dean snapped. "It's because if Eve has Cas's grace, I'm thinking maybe there's a chance she could have your soul too. Here. In this world. Where we can maybe get our hands on it." He spoke the last parts slowly to try and drive his point home but couldn't decipher Sam's reaction beyond his brother's obvious drive to gank Eve.

"Okay," Sam nodded after a tense moment of silence. "I'm in. What can I do to help you?"

"I need you to tell me everything you remember about being in Purgatory. Every detail."

"I already told you."

"Tell me again!"

Sam sighed and retold the story of his brief venture into Purgatory. He was hurtled through the gate but didn't get a look around on the other side as he was attacked almost instantly by fierce, shadowy creatures. He felt pain but it was a different type of pain; like his insides being ripped out without the gaping wounds.

"Your soul," Dean breathed.

The next memory Sam had was of Cas gripping his shoulder and a bright light blinding him as the angel pulled the creatures off him.

"Bright light... Cas's grace being ripped out?" Dean said, the question sounding rhetorical.

"Could be," Sam shrugged. "By the time I broke free, the light was streaming out of his eyes and mouth and I just grabbed him by the coat and dove us back through the gate."

Dean was silent for a long minute. "So you lost your soul the same time Cas lost his grace and to the same fuglies. So if they gave Eve his grace..." It didn't take a genius to see Dean was getting his hopes up.

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

It was another fifteen minutes before Balthazar finally showed up, flashing in next to the fireplace in his usual V-neck and blazer. He glanced around the room, amused eyes dancing from hunter to hunter to fallen brother to liquor cabinet. He strolled over to the mahogany hutch and made a show of selecting an expensive cognac before reaching for a glass and turning to Castiel.

"You rang, brother?"

Cas sighed impatiently. "Yes. A while ago. What took you so long?"

Balthazar gave a little snort as he poured a generous amount of the dark liquid into his glass. "You should be thankful I came at all. I'm going against orders here." He raised the bottle. "Drink?"

"No," Cas declined. "Orders?"

The blond angel nodded. "Well, yes. Haven't you heard? The Mother's managed to come over from Purgatory. She's killing any angel she finds. Michael's called us all back upstairs."

Cas cocked his head sideways and frowned. "I have heard about the Mother. I'm the reason she was able to come here. She has my grace. That's actually why I called, but tell me, why is Michael calling us all home...er, calling _you_ all home?"

"Well, the Mother's pretty much unstoppable with an angel grace shoved up her arse. She's slaughtered seven of us already."

"Michael could defeat her." Cas's voice was terse, his disapproval obvious. "He is an archangel."

Balthazar shook his head. "True, he probably could, but he doesn't want to. He's leaving the humans to their own fate. See, he's still pissy that you and your new friends, the Winchesters, foiled his plans to duke it out with Lucifer." He looked around the room. "Where is the dynamic duo, anyway?"

"Downstairs," Bobby answered evasively. "Trying to figure out a way to clean up Crowley's mess."

"Why won't Michael help?" Ellen asked the angel, her expression disbelieving. "This 'Mother' is killing angels too."

"This is a threat to all humanity," Tasha added. "Not just Sam and Dean. Surely Michael's not going to let the whole planet burn because he's pissed at two people?"

Balthazar let out a brief burst of laughter before taking a leisurely drink. "You don't know Michael," he said to the brunette. "He's been known to sulk for centuries at a time."

"He's right," Cas agreed with a nod of annoyed agreement. "He is not quick to forgive."

"That's an understatement," said Balthazar. "Just look at him and Lucifer. How many more millennia are they going to squabble for Daddy's affection? Our father isn't even around anymore and they still want to smite the snot out of each other."

"So an archangel can take out Eve?" Bobby steered the subject back to finding a solution.

Balthazar and Cas both nodded.

"Well then let's recruit us an archangel!" the older hunter said incredulously. "There's more than Michael out there."

"Not one that will cooperate, I'm afraid," Cas explained. "Besides Michael and Lucifer, only Raphael and Gabriel would be strong enough to retain their Heavenly powers around Eve."

"So what about them?" Ellen urged.

"Raphael is Michael's lapdog," Cas frowned. "He will not go against his General's orders. Ever."

"And Gabriel?" Tasha queried.

"Missing." Balthazar downed the rest of his drink. "Got tired of the bickering upstairs and disappeared a thousand years ago never to be seen or heard from again."

"So let's find him," said Tasha quickly.

"The entire host of Heaven has been searching for Gabriel for centuries to no avail," Cas explained. "He does not want to be found. He is not an option."

"Well if an archangel is the only thing that can kill this Eve chick, then we have to make him an option!" Tasha exclaimed heatedly.

Balthazar smiled, a mischievous glint appearing in his eyes. "Well, an archangel isn't the _only_   thing."

Now he had everyone's undivided attention. "What else?" Cas ventured. "I'm not aware of any weapon that can kill her."

"Weapon, no," Balthazar agreed. "But she does have weaknesses." He stopped as Dean and Jo entered, coming back up from their interrogation of Sam in the wine cellar. Balthazar's eyes widened and his smile grew as his eyes fell on the petite blonde hunter.

"Ahhh," he beamed at the female newcomer. "I, too have my weaknesses. Blondes, for one. Hello beautiful, I'm Balthazar. I do apologize for Castiel's lack of manners and my previous haste. We weren't properly introduced last time we met."

"Uh, I'm Jo," Jo answered, not taking his extended hand.

"Look, we didn't summon you here for a booty call," Dean interrupted impatiently, taking a protective step in front of the younger Harvelle.

Balthazar rolled his eyes. "You must be Dean Winchester," he scoffed. "So we finally meet. Well, I honestly can't see why Castiel is so smitten with you."

Cas cleared his throat uncomfortably at the comment. "Balthazar," he said, trying to steer his old friend's attention back to the task at hand. "You were saying Eve has weaknesses?"

The angel sighed and reluctantly drew his gaze back to Cas. "We're being called back upstairs indefinitely," he grumbled. "This could be my last day down here for a very long time. Or ever. Can't blame a fellow for..."

"Her weaknesses?" Cas interrupted sternly.

"Oh, right. Well, monsters not of Purgatory are toxic to her. At least, their ashes are. If she ingests even a small amount, it should kill her."

"Not of Purgatory... like demons and ghosts?" Dean pressed.

Balthazar waved a hand and snorted. "Of course not. They're human. Or were at one point. No, I'm talking old school here. Creatures that were around before Purgatory even existed."

"Like what?" asked Bobby.

"Like the Phoenix," the angel offered. "Creatures that aren't born and don't die. Immortal things formed of an earthly magic that defy time and space. An Ifrit would also work. Maybe even a Cherufe."

"Can you help us get any of these things?" Jo asked, pushing Dean aside to smile sweetly at Balthazar.

"I'm afraid not, sugar," Balthazar winked at her. "I have to get going or I'll be missed and..." he looked around the room, "well, that might not be good for any of you. I shouldn't even still be down here but I figured if I'm going to be grounded for eternity, I might as well enjoy one last night of carnal pleasure at Madame Rotmensen's hot baths in Amsterdam."

His expression fell somber all of a sudden and he turned to face Cas with a sigh. "Old friend," he said solemnly. "Since you're human now and it looks like you'll be dying sooner rather than later..." He had the decency to look genuinely apologetic. "I'll come see you in your heaven, brother. When you get there. 'Til then, adieu."

With a tilt of the head he was gone.

Dean groaned. "Is it a prerequisite for angels to be dicks?"

"I dunno," Jo shrugged with a smirk. "I thought he was kind of charming."

Ellen rolled her eyes at her daughter and shook her head. "Well, let's get back to researching," she rallied hastily. "We got leads now which means we got a chance."

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

Everyone went into full research mode immediately, trying to dig up any information they could on the Phoenix, Ifrits, and Cherufes. It was all hands on deck so Dean and Cas brought Sam his laptop and the pair doubled up their own research with guard duty.

The Phoenix was an immortal creature that could take human form. Technically it could be killed but upon its death, it would burn and regenerate itself, rising from its own ashes alive and well. Unfortunately, it turned out the last one was killed permanently by Samuel Colt himself over a hundred years ago. Dead end.

Cherufes were sentient beings that formed from molten lava in volcanoes. In humanity's early stages, villages would sacrifice virgins, tossing them into the mouths of smouldering volcanic peaks in an effort to appease the Cherufe within. No hunter had ever even verified their existence, never mind actually located one or determined any way to kill one and gather its ashes. There were also no known active volcanoes hinting imminent erruptions right now. Another dead end.

That left the Ifrit. Their research and Cas's limited knowledge revealed that an Ifrit was a creature of pure evil formed from flames when fire and great tragedy came together. In simpler words, a fire monster that was made when a fire killed a large number of people, created and fueled by their agony and pain as they burned. An Ifrit wasn't corporeal and wasn't tied to any particular place or person but instead showed up within large scale fires anywhere in the world, feeding from the suffering and no doubt trying to maximize the loss of life.

"An Ifrit's definitely the logical choice here," Sam concluded, tossing one of Bobby's old books aside and picking up another one. "We just have to find one, gank it, and feed its ashes to Eve."

"Easier said than done," Dean snorted. "Says here they only show up in a fire where large numbers of people are dying."

Sam rolled his eyes and splayed his shackled hands in a gesture that read _'yeah, so_?'.

Dean felt a rush of nausea at the realization of the point his brother was trying to make. He shook his head and slammed the book he was reading shut. "We're not burning a bunch of innocent people, Sam! Jesus!"

Sam didn't flinch. "A lot more are going to die if we don't stop Eve," he pointed out. "I'm thinking greater good here. Besides, they don't have to be innocent. We could burn down a jail. That would actually work perfectly because then they couldn't get out and we'd be guaranteed enough numbers to be sure to attract an Ifrit. We could..."

He was cut off by Dean's fist slamming into the side of his face. Dean jumped back up to his feet instantly, breathing heavily and using all the willpower in his possession to refrain from repeating the punch over and over until this heartless bastard no longer looked like his brother. "Fuck," he ground out through gritted teeth and marched out of the room.

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

The research upstairs had proved a little more fruitful. Bobby had discovered that Ifrits became solid for a brief moment to feed during the fire. He deduced that the Colt would most likely be able to 'kill the sucker' if shot while in its corporeal form. Like the Phoenix, another creature of fire, the Ifrit would them turn to ash which they would have to collect to use against Eve.

"So the only problems are people have to be dying to get the Ifrit to show and one of us has to be in the fire with the Colt to do it," he summed up sardonically.

"Not exactly little problems," Tasha groused in frustration. "The second one we can work with...hell, I'll go in... but the first?" She shrugged. "How are we gonna fake mass carnage?"

"Even the second one's not that simple," Bobby added. "Says here only people who have been touched by fire's devastation can see an Ifrit." He read on silently for a moment while everyone watched him. A frown pulled at his weathered face before he continued out loud. "Doesn't mean burned in the physical sense," he elaborated. "Means only people who have suffered great emotional or spiritual loss at the hands of a fire can see these things."

There was a brief silence before Dean finally spoke up. "So that means Sam and me," he said quietly.

Bobby nodded grimly. "Your mom. And Jessica for Sam."

Tasha spun to Dean, narrowing her eyes. "Wait, you're not going into a fire with... with _that guy_   watching your back! He's not Sam. I'm going in with you."

Dean shook his head. "No you're not." Fire had terrified Dean since that fateful night in 1983 and the mere thought of losing anyone else he loved to its deathly clutches made him want to puke. He fought to keep his composure as he explained calmly. "Not if you won't be able to see this Ifrit and defend yourself against it. Besides, the fewer of us standing around in a raging fire, the better. And there's only one Colt." He pursed his lips. "As for Sam, if he can see this thing, he could be useful to have in there with me. He wants to gank this Mother chick, remember? He won't do anything to jeopardize a chance to do that."

 _'He also won't put himself in danger trying to cover my ass so I don't have to worry about him as much. He'll make sure he gets himself out alive_ ,' Dean thought ruefully.

"I don't like it," Tasha insisted. "You'll be alone in the middle of a giant ass fire. What if you can't get out in time? What if the smoke...?"

"Isn't it a moot point, anyway?" Jo interceded. "We can't go burning people."

Cas pulled his lips into a lopsided frown. "We need numerous souls burning in the fire," he said slowly, "But not necessarily numerous bodies."

"What are you gettin' at?" Bobby asked.

"Well, couldn't we burn a single creature that holds many souls? It would feel the same to an Ifrit yet only one creature would have to die. A creature that you hunters would kill anyway."

Bobby's mouth spread into a wide grin. "We're gonna make one helluva decent hunter outta you after all, son," he chuckled. "Despite your unfortunate heritage. We could get our hands on a Hausean Soul Eater and set it aflame. That aughta send up a decent sized suffering flag to any nearby Ifrits."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "A House-eon what?"

"Hausean Soul Eater," Bobby clarified. "Named after a tribe in Africa that they used to feed on regularly back in the day. These nasty fuckers suck human souls out and store them up inside. The more they get, the stronger they are and the longer they live. We kill it in a fire and the souls just go on their merry way. Might hurt for a bit but can't be worse that bein' jammed inside a monster for the rest of eternity. We'd be doing them a favor."

Dean's face brightened. "Well let's get us one of those," he exclaimed.

Bobby's face pulled back into a scowl. "Course, they only exist in Africa. That'll mean passports and plane tickets. Then we'll have to get the thing back here or else get the Colt over there. Hmph. This is gonna take time we might not have."

Dean's face was pale. "Plane tickets?"

"Why don't we just tell Crowley to get us a Soul Sucker?" Jo suggested. "This is all his fault, after all. He should do some of the dirty work."

The look of relief on the elder Winchester's face was almost comical. "Right, let's summon the smarmy bastard and order one live Horses-ass Soul Sucker."

Bobby rolled his eyes, unable to keep the fond smile from curling his lips. "It's Hausean Soul Eater, y'idjit."

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

Crowley wasn't impressed at being told to pull his weight but agreed to see what he could do. The hunters didn't elaborate on their plan for fear the demon would decide to bypass the Soul Eater step altogether and just roast a hundred people alive to get his own Ifrit.

In the four days they had to wait for the King of Hell to deliver the live monster, they scouted for the best location for the fire and stole two full-gear fireman's suits for Sam and Dean. Certain his brother wasn't faking his determination to be involved in the plan to take down Eve, Dean even agreed to free Sam from his restraints during the daytime, provided there were always at least two of them watching him. He knew Sam wasn't about to take-off without the Colt and Dean was sure to keep the weapon well hidden. Sam cooperated fully.

It was after supper on the fourth day and the sun was just setting when Dean found himself alone on the front porch with Cas. The ex-angel was sitting quietly on the steps staring intently at the reddening horizon. Dean strode over and sat next to him, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

"So Cas, I've been meaning to ask you something," he said quietly. "If we kill this Eve chick, is that gonna kill your grace as well?"

Cas turned his expressive blue gaze towards the hunter. "I don't know," he admitted. "The same applies to Sam's soul, if it is in there. But even so, you must not hesitate. If the opportunity is there, you must kill Eve."

Dean sighed. Just once he wished his family could catch a break. "What about your grace, man?" he asked , his tone weary.

"I'm human now," Cas deadpanned. "I understand mortality better than I ever have before. I don't want any more people dying on my account."

Dean shifted, not liking the possibilities.

Cas watched him intently before elaborating. "As an angel, we were taught to view humans as pawns, insignificant specs in the grand scheme of things. Now that I am one, now that I care for you - all of you - the way I do, I place much more value on each individual life. Killing Eve has to come first. Billions could die otherwise."

Dean finally nodded, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on a knot in the wooden stair between his feet.

"If it helps, I think my grace will simply be released when Eve dies," Cas added. "If I am there, I can absorb it once more. Like Anna did when her grace was freed from the vile in which Uriel kept it."

Dean looked up breathing a deep sigh of relief. "Okay, that's good. That's good."

Cas shrugged. "It might be."

"What does that mean? Don't you want your grace back?"

"Of course. I have learned much as a human but it is... restrictive. I miss the feel of Heaven's power. I miss how much more effectively I can protect you all as an angel but..." He trailed off.

"But what?" Dean urged, confused by his friend's hesitation.

"But my grace has been inside a creature of Purgatory. The most powerful creature of Purgatory. It may not be fully intact."

Dean swallowed. "What does that mean?"

"I mean after being inside the Mother, who is twisted and evil and everything angels are not supposed to be, my grace will be damaged. Possibly flayed and distorted beyond recognition. I may be better off without it."

Dean let the harsh words sink in. "How will we know?" he swallowed.

Cas shrugged. "We won't. Not until it's back inside me, anyway. Then, depending on what state I am in, I will leave it up to you to decide what to do with me."

"Huh?"

His blue eyes were grave and sorrowful. "I am sorry to burden you with this, Dean but I trust you more than anyone. When my grace is returned to me, if I am dangerous or a threat or suffering beyond reason, I want you to do whatever needs done."

The already punishing weight on Dean's shoulders grew heavier at his friend's unexpected request. _First Sam now maybe Cas as well?_ He didn't know if he had the strength in him. The pair sat in somber silence for a long time, shoulder to shoulder on the wooden stairs staring at the beautiful but ominous fiery-red sunset until well after it had faded to darkness.

"Okay, Cas," Dean agreed quietly. "Okay."

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

Crowley came through for them the next day when three demons delivered a steel crate with a thrashing Hausean Soul Eater inside, trapped by the symbols painted onto the six walls of the box. It went against every fibre of his being, but Dean let the delivery goons go without sticking Ruby's knife in their guts. _Bigger fish to fry right now._

They headed over to the abandoned warehouse they had selected in a desolate spot on the edge of the small town. No traffic, no witnesses, no fire alarms to go off, and chock-full of rotten timber shelving and wall coverings that would make for quite the raging fire. It was as perfect a spot as they were ever going to find.

They built up a large circle of flammable material in the middle of the main warehouse room, doused it with fuel, and placed the steel container in the center of it. By the time the heat seared off the painted symbols and the Soul Eater broke free, it would be stuck inside the deadly ring of fire. Smoke inhalation wouldn't kill one of these creatures but the flames would, so they were fairly certain the creature would suffer through plenty of agonizing pain before finally dying.

Dean was surprisingly okay with that, he realized wryly.

Alone over by the Impala, Tasha helped Dean into the fireman's gear he had stolen a few days prior. As he fastened the suspenders holding up the pants over his plain grey t-shirt, he looked up to find her smirking at him.

"What?"

She bit her bottom lip and tilted her head. "Oh nothing. I was just thinking you need to hang on to this getup." She took a step forward and pressed herself up against his chest, a finger curling around the suspender strap. "You look so fucking hot right now," she whispered, her voice husky against his neck.

Dean grinned down at her, his hands moving instinctively to her waist. "Got a thing for firemen, huh?"

Her brown eyes sparkled. "Hey, firemen are the equivalent of strippers for women. Or in your case, of nurses."

He laughed and slid his hands around to cup her ass, leaning down to plant a firm kiss on her lips. She responded immediately and for a long minute, all his worries slipped away, lost in the feel of her mouth on his and her hands gliding up his shoulder blades to the back of his neck, tugging him closer.

Eventually, she pulled back ever so slightly and pressed a series of light kisses along his jawline. "Be careful," she breathed onto his cheek, her arms wrapping more tightly around him.

"Aren't I always?" he scoffed in jest, only to be met with a disagreeing frown. "Okay," he nodded reassuringly. "I will be."

"Promise me you'll come out of there alive," she pressed, not letting him go just yet.

"I promise," he replied, his voice hushed and sincere. "I mean, I wouldn't miss whatever you have in mind for tonight with this fireman's outfit."

That got him the response he was looking for and he felt her chest shaking with a hearty laugh. She loosened her arms and took a step back. "Oh you definitely don't want to miss that," she grinned, her eyes dancing at him with unspoken promise.

He stooped to pick up the heavy, yellow jacket. "Well, babe, if you help dress me now, I swear you can help undress me later."

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

Fully dressed save for the mask, Dean asked Tasha to go check that the oxygen tanks in Ellen's Jeep were good to go. As soon as she was out of sight, he beckoned Jo over to him.

"Listen, Jo, I don't have much time but I need you to do something for me."

The blonde's stance immediately straightened. "Of course," she agreed eagerly. "Anything."

"If I don't make it out of there -" he began before he was cut off.

"Of course you will."

"Okay," he acknowledged. "But just in case I don't, I need to know someone else can do what needs done."

She frowned. "What are you getting at?"

"Sam."

"Oh."

"Yeah. You know as well as I do that he can't stay the way he is. If we don't get his soul back..." He was certain he didn't have to elaborate. He had heard many whispered conversations the past few days between various memebers of the group about what was to be done with Sam.

She was quiet for a moment, standing in front of him with her hands in her back jeans pockets. "Why me?"

"I trust you."

"I didn't think you thought I had it in me."

He lifted a shoulder. "I didn't," he admitted. "And maybe I was right at the time. But now..." He held her gaze. "Youve grown up, Jo. You may still need some experience under your belt but you're fierce and tough and you have good instincts and... and I think you have what it takes to do what needs done." He gave her a hard stare, gauging her response. "Am I right?"

She nodded slowly. "Yeah. I can do it. If we have no other option."

"I'm trusting you with this," he said. "The others... Tash loves him like a brother, Bobby loves him like a son, Ellen's got too much of a motherly instinct and Cas, well Cas doesn't have enough instincts. They just wouldn't be able to go through with it. That leaves you." He sighed. "Jo, I know I'm asking a lot..."

"You can count on me," the blonde said firmly. "I hope it never comes down to it but I'll do it if it does. Just get your ass out of there in one piece, okay?"

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

The fire was fucking hot and Dean could hardly see through the thick, dark smoke. The mask was making breathing tolerable but the searing heat could be felt right through the fireproof suit and he was drenched in sweat. His limbs felt heavy and every step he took felt like he was running a marathon. He could barely make out the silhouette of his brother, dressed in the same protective clothing and mask just twenty feet away, staring patiently up at the dancing flames.

The screams of the Soul Eater were eerily familiar, reminding Dean of the decades he spent in hell where the sound of pain was a never-ending background noise. It was strange but, although there was only one creature scrambling frantically around inside the huge burning circle, the screams were layered, like a hundred voices in unison conveying their terror and pain in wordless screams. Dean began to doubt their assumption that the unfortunate souls they were supposed to be freeing would thank them for this in the end.

Still no sign of an Ifrit. To attract one of the fire-creatures they were seeking, the fire had to be big and, according to Bobby's research, the more wild and out-of-control, the better. That was why they had opted to go for the more dangerous route of burning a building instead of out in the open somewhere. The flames had quickly began licking at the surrounding walls and shelves and it had taken less time than they thought for the whole building to become consumed. Combined with the roasting multi-souled creature they were murdering in the most painful of ways, it should be enough - but still no damn Ifrit. He knew he and Sam should be leaving soon or they may not get the chance. That thought was reinforced when a large chunk of wood dropped from the ceiling and crashed down a few feet away from him.

He could picture Tasha outside, pale and frantic by this point, screaming that he should have come out by now. He knew Bobby would keep his cool no matter what happened and would keep the headstrong brunette from doing anything foolish, like charging in here after him. Ellen would do the same for Jo but he wasn't sure about Cas. The angel side of him would act logically and remain outside to ensure he could make a second attempt if this attempt failed, keeping the bigger picture in mind. But Cas wasn't an angel anymore and he had already given up everything for Dean, including his life - more than once. It bothered Dean that he couldn't count on his friend **_not_** to do it again.

His worry was interrupted by one of the more terrifying and yet spectacular sights he had ever seen. The flames in front of him suddenly swirled in a circular motion then shot higher and burned brighter for an instant. The hunter looked up to see a shape forming within them. Gigantic, two arms, two legs, gaping black hole for a mouth, intense white flames for eyes. It moved like fluid through the fire, the flames surging and swirling around it.

"Sam!" he yelled, already knowing his brother wouldn't hear him through their gear. He fumbled with the radio, pressing the button a few times to beep urgently on Sam's end. Sam looked over and Dean pointed but Sam just shook his head, clearly not seeing what Dean was.

Damnit. No soul. No emotional suffering. Apparently Jess and their mother didn't matter anymore. "Fuck," he cursed inside his mask. _Should have seen that one coming._

He fingered the Colt clumsily with his gloves, not entirely sure how to decipher when the beast was corporeal enough to shoot. He swallowed and hoped he would be able to tell when it started to feed on the pain of the creature dying within the circle.

Suddenly the thing was rushing down towards him, the roar of the fire sounding more animalistic than the usual movement of air and crackling of burning material. He fired three shots straight at it and was aware enough to realize they were going right through the thing before it was on him, knocking him off his feet with a blast of searing heat and energy.

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**


	21. We Are Each Other's Weakness

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

Dean hit the ground hard, what little air he had in his lungs rushing out of him on impact. The creature within the fire formed into a spinning tornado a few feet above him, its black abyss of a mouth open in a silent scream. The force of it dislodged some of the heavy burning timbers from the pile they had built-up around the soul eater, sending them in Dean's direction. He threw his arms up as they came crashing down on top of him and managed to deflect them enough to avoid the brunt of it but his leg and hip were struck hard and his mask was knocked off.

A searing pain immediately tore at his throat and lungs when he sucked in a gulp of smoke-filled air and cried out in pain. His voice cut out and he fought for breath while struggling to free himself from the burning debris. He wasn't having much success with either and found himself firmly wedged between two railway ties, coughing into his sleeve in a fit of painful choking wheezes.

Suddenly the heavy railway tie was lifting off him and a strong hand fisted in his jacket, yanking him to his feet.

"Sam?" he croaked, shocked as hell that his soulless brother had taken the time to come to his aid.

"Yeah, I gotcha," Sam replied, his voice muffled by his mask. He kicked a scorched log out of the way and pulled Dean completely free of the burning rubble.

They staggered a few steps back away from the searing heat of the flames, Dean gripping tightly to Sam's jacket for support. "Try not to cough," he heard Sam say. "You're forcing more smoke into your lungs. Breathe shallow." Dean nodded and worked on gaining control over the excruciating task of breathing. Easier said than done and he was still struggling for air when Sam removed his mask and placed it over Dean's face.

Dean sucked in a few mouthfuls of cleaner air, trying to concentrate on clearing his lungs while his eyes searched frantically for the Ifrit and his mind spun with speculation as to what Sam's motives were here. Sam didn't care about him; about anything. So why was he risking his own life helping Dean and even sharing his mask? Was there a tiny bit of Sammy left in there after all? Something redeeming? Something work saving?

_Please let there be something left._

Sam took the mask back for a few breaths then returned it for Dean to take a few, trading it back and forth as the younger brother heaved him forward. Dean assumed they were heading towards the exit, considering how out-of-control the fire was and the injured state he was in with his hurt leg. He had stifled the choking reflex by the time he noticed Sam had the Colt in his hand - Dean hadn't even realized he'd dropped it. He looked up to see they weren't headed for the exit but instead had moved deeper into the building, around the burning circle to the far side where the flames had worked faster and the stacked wooden pallets were burned low enough to see inside the round makeshift prison.

"Where is it?" Sam asked him. "Can you see it?" He raised the Colt. "I need you to tell me where it is."

 _Crap_. Sam was thinking of completing the mission and nothing more. He needed Dean to tell him where the Ifrit was so he could shoot it.

The soul eater was inside the circle, engulfed in flames, screaming and flailing its arms around. Sam's fist wrapped tighter in Dean's jacket.

"Dean! Can you see it?" he shouted urgently. "The soul eater's dying! It should be feeding now! Dean?"

Dean forced his focus back to the task at hand, trying to quell the grief tearing at him anew at the mere sight of his brother. He gritted his teeth and looked around at the flames, which were now engulfing the far wall behind them and pretty much everything Dean could see. There was no swirling mass moving differently within them, no gaping maw, no white flaming eyes staring at him.

He shook his head. "I don't see it. It's not fucking here... wait!" Behind the soul eater, a shape was advancing. It was fire but not dancing in the air like it had presented itself before. Instead it appeared more stable, more solid, and it was reaching a fiery arm out towards the dying soul eater. "Behind him!" Dean yelled, pointing. "Behind the sou..."

His voice choked before he finished but Sam got the point. The younger hunter let go of his hold on Dean to fire two shots right past the soul eater. "Did I get it?"

Dean shook his head and answered between coughs. "To the right."

Sam fired again.

"To the right. Couple more feet."

He saw Sam's eyes narrow behind the mask he was wearing. "Last shot," he hissed, raising the gun again. "Work with me here, Dean."

Dean reached out and tugged the barrel of the old revolver towards him a few inches, adjusting his brother's aim before nodding. Sam fired without hesitation or doubt. Clearly having no soul hadn't affected his trust in Dean's hunting skills or their ability to work well together.

The Ifrit flamed up brightly, an ear-piercing scream escaping its lipless mouth that even Sam could hear. Both brothers cringed at the sound and Sam gave Dean a hopeful look.

"I got it, right?"

"Damn straight," Dean rasped, unaware a smirk was plastered on his face. He had wrapped his hand in his brother's sleeve to hold himself upright.

"Is that its ashes?" Sam demanded, pointing to what was left of the Ifrit behind the now-still, blazing body of the soul eater, a neat mound of grey ash.

"Yeah," Dean confirmed.

Without another word, Sam shrugged Dean off him and stepped inside the circle, over the smouldering embers of the clearer spot they had fired through. Without the additional support, Dean collapsed to the floor again, setting off another fit of wracking coughs. He could barely make out Sam's silhouette, squatting down inside the circle, presumably scooping up the ashes of the Ifrit into the container they had brought in.

In the minute that followed, Dean struggled to his hands and knees but the smoke grew even thicker and the visibility was virtually zero. Without a mask, he couldn't breathe nor see and had absolutely no idea at this point where the exit was. He thought about crawling in a random direction and hoping for a door but it went against his every fibre to leave his brother, despite everything. Maybe if he waited here, Sam would stop for him and help him out? Maybe... as long as helping him didn't interfere with the mission...

He didn't really believe that. His usefulness was over. So he was surprised a second time when hands were suddenly gripping him and tugging him to his feet.

"Sam," he rasped, trying to see his brother's face through the smoke and intense heat.

He saw a large, strangely shaped object looming over him. Blue eyes blinked back at him through a slit in what Dean thought might be a water-soaked coat wrapped around a head. Familiar blue eyes, he realized, and yes, that looked like a beige trench coat around his rescuer's head.

"Cas?"

The head nodded. "Come on; we have to get out of here before the whole place collapses on us." The voice was muffled through the sodden jacket but Cas's deep tone was unmistakable.

"What about Sam?"

Cas slung Dean's arm over his shoulder. "Just passed him on the way out. He has the container."

"Son of a bitch," Dean mumbled before his voice was lost in a choking breath of smoke.

They were both coughing by the time they reached the exit. In fact, the first gulp of clean air sent Dean into yet another fit of gasps and wheezes. Cas kept moving, half-carrying him over to Ellen's Jeep before shrugging him off and seating him on the tailgate. Dean's eyes were burning so badly he could hardly see but he could make out Ellen in front of him, placing an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose. He barely felt the prick of a needle as she gave him some meds to help reduce the swelling in his airway. He could hear Sam wheezing from somewhere a few feet away and Tasha's voice calling from a distance.

He finally gained control over his breathing and his vision started to clear. He looked up to see Ellen's very concerned face peering at him, her hand still holding the mask over his mouth. He nodded his thanks and glanced past her.

Sam was on his knees on the ground, alone, holding the other oxygen mask over his own mouth and nose. Jo was hovering behind her mother, helping Cas remove the sodden coat from his head.

He turned his gaze towards Tasha's voice, it seeming strange she wasn't all over him by this point. She was standing by the Impala looking freaked and pissed at the same time. That was when he noticed her right wrist was handcuffed to the door handle. It didn't take him any time to figure out Bobby must have done that to keep her from running inside the burning building.

He found himself both horrified and blown away at the implication. To be loved like that - the way she loved him, the way he loved his family - was something he had always wanted. Craved. Needed. But some stubborn part of him still didn't believe he deserved that kind of devotion and it scared him.

He let out a quick chuckle that turned into a cough and pulled the mask off his face, giving the Harvelles a black-faced grin. "Bobby?" he questioned, jerking his head towards the restrained brunette.

Ellen shook her head. "Nope, that was Cas." She stood aside to reveal Bobby lying on the ground behind them, eyes closed. "Bobby was worse than her."

Dean's eyes widened and he moved to get off the tailgate and rush over to the older hunter but Ellen put a firm hand on his shoulder, keeping him in place. "He'll be fine," she assured him. "I just gave him a little bump on the head."

"Yeah, they're so totally gonna have their first fight when he wakes up," Jo snickered, heading over to uncuff Tasha.

"Oh it won't be our first," Ellen assured her daughter. "Besides, he's all bark and no bite." A sly smile spread across her face. "Well, he does bite, just not in the bad way. Actually..."

"Ewww! TMI Mom!" Jo exclaimed, her mouth twisted in an expression of disgust. Dean broke out into another hacking fit and quickly put the mask back on his face.

Ellen just laughed.

"Maybe we should get you checked out at a hospital," Tasha interrupted, oblivious to any light-hearted conversation going on. She was suddenly at Dean's side, pulling at a rip in his jeans.

Dean looked down at his leg and for the first time, realized he was bleeding. His hip and his chest hurt like hell but he had figured it was just bruising. Tasha split the denim on his thigh wide open to reveal a nasty cut with multiple splinters poking out of the ragged, torn skin.

"Crap," Dean mumbled, starting to feel the pain now that the adrenaline rush was subsiding. Well that would explain why he had been having trouble walking.

The smile disappeared from Ellen's face. "I'll get that cleaned," she said, her voice all business again. "Then we best be high-tailing it outta here. Someone's bound to see the smoke eventually.

Dean had forgotten about the burning building behind them, despite the loud cracking and splitting sounds and the rumble of parts collapsing. He looked up to see Cas approaching, holding Sam's ash container in his hands.

 _Good thinking_ , he thought, glad the ex-angel had used Sam's recovery time to take the canister from him. Sam might split and try to take Eve out on his own if they didn't keep their hands on the weapon.

Sam was sitting back on his haunches now, his breathing steady though his face was smeared with black. Cas came to stand by Dean with a nervous expression on his face.

"Thanks Cas," Dean said with genuine gratitude but Cas simply nodded, his gaze fixing instead on Tasha.

"I suppose you're going to be mad at me for some time now for handcuffing you to the vehicle?" Cas asked her, his voice even raspier than usual and his wet hair plastered to his forehead.

She swallowed and to Dean's surprise, shook her head. "No," she said quietly. She shot a quick glance at Dean before looking back to Cas. "Thank you. For getting him out of there."

Glad he was mostly hidden by the oxygen mask, Dean smiled. He had known she would come around and warm up to Cas again eventually. He was grateful Cas knew her well enough to foresee the need to physically restrain her under the circumstances. She wouldn't have had the strength to haul him out of there so quickly and he shuddered to think what would have happened then.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of Bobby stirring and a sharp jolt of pain from where Ellen was pulling at a large splinter in his leg. "Oh, motherfu...!" The elder Harvelle's disapproving frown was enough to make him clamp his mouth shut, finishing his outburst in the form of a strained growl.

Bobby groaned in unison with Dean and sat up, his hand automatically moving to rub the back of his neck. He looked around, his eyes searching out both Sam and Dean and his shoulders visibly relaxed when he took in that they were both alive and well.

"What the hell happened?" he mumbled, accepting Jo's hand as help up off the ground.

Dean saw Ellen throw a sly smile in Cas's direction. "No idea, you old fool," she said fondly, never stopping her work cleaning Dean's leg wound. "You went charging in and musta bumped your head on the doorframe. Don't you remember?"

Bobby let out n indignant snort, clearly not pleased with himself for being so clumsy. "Did we at least get the sonofabitch?"

Cas held up the container just as Sam came to stand next to him.

"One full can of Ifrit ashes," Sam answered for him, apparently taking no offense he hadn't been checked out or nursed by the ladies like both Dean and Cas had. "Now let's go kill the Mother."

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

Turned out Ellen was even better than Bobby at patching up wounds because, although Dean got a couple of stitches in his leg where the biggest of the splinters had been removed, there was no sign of infection and two days later he was walking on it without a noticeable limp. His breathing had eventually lost that underlying wheeze and after two days of being the 'patient', he had finally been able to do his own share of the work this morning when Nurse Natasha had insisted on giving him another 'check-up'.

Upon the group's return to their borrowed deluxe cabin, it was agreed that Sam no longer needed to be locked up in the wine cellar. The Colt and the Ifrit's ashes were well hidden and Dean was certain Sam wouldn't try anything or leave without them. Tasha had been the only one against it but had given up her argument fairly quickly when she realized she was alone. Dean had caught her later having an unusually intense conversation with Jo in the kitchen. The two women had clammed up immediately upon his arrival, Jo giving Tasha a reassuring "I'll be careful, okay?" before heading outside.

The hunters had spent the time searching for clues to where they could find Eve. There was plenty of evidence of where she had _been_ , stories coming in from all over the country of potential demon kills. Unfortunately, there didn't seem to be anything subtle about the Mother of All and quite a few of the incidents sported a high death toll, a lot of whom were surely collateral damage. They had summoned Crowley but even the King of Hell hadn't been able to get a line on her whereabouts, though he did seem impressed at the group's progress and even commented that he considered them the 'winning horse'.

Cas had also repeatedly tried to contact Balthazar but still no reply. There were no more reports of angel deaths so apparently Michael's total recall to Heaven had been obeyed to the last angel. At least Eve seemed to be concentrating on demons for the time being, though nobody doubted humans would be her next target. Once again the fate of the world seemed to be resting on the shoulders of the Winchesters and company.

Late evening on the third night, Bobby snapped his phone shut and threw it across the table in frustration. "Balls," he growled. "Bitch took out ten people in Michigan this afternoon but she's long gone now. We need to figure out where she's going _before_ she fucking gets there!"

There were nods of agreement all round then Jo's eyes suddenly widened and she leaned forward, elbows on the table. "What we need..." she said slowly, "is bait."

"What are you getting at, hon?" Ellen asked, a wary look on her face.

"Demons," Jo said bluntly. "She's seeking them out. We round a few up..."

Cas sat up straight on the couch, his interest clearly piqued. "Yes, a trap."

Ellen frowned. "That would be like leading lambs to the slaughter," she pointed out. "There are people inside those demons, remember? Eve doesn't exorcise, she kills." She turned towards her daughter, deep creases of disappointment on her forehead. "I would expect that barbaric suggestion from Sam. Not you."

"Jo's right," Sam chimed in.

The blonde rolled her eyes at him. "You agreeing with me isn't helping my case," she said irritably.

"No, she is right," Dean agreed reluctantly. "Ellen, I get what you're saying and we used to work that way too. We wouldn't use the Colt or the knife unless we absolutely had to but... but with the stakes getting so fucking high..." He rubbed his fingers across his forehead and grimaced, not liking that these words were even coming out of his mouth. "Now - we see a demon, we kill it. It's the black-eyed bastard who killed the meatsuit when it decided to smoke in there, not us. That person's blood is on them. I mean, if we can get it into a Devil's trap and exorcize a demon, we will, but we don't get that chance that much anymore. If you ask me, demons are acceptable bait, considering the circumstances."

Ellen was quiet for a long moment but, after looking to Bobby for support and finding him quickly averting his eyes, she nodded. "Alright then," she conceded. "But just how do you plan on grabbing enough demons to get her attention and then get them to sit idly by and wait for Eve to walk into our trap?"

It was Sam who had the answer. "Crowley," he said flatly.

"Crowley?" Bobby curled his lip. "He's not going to sacrifice his own soldiers."

"Yeah he will," Sam disagreed. "A few grunts for the greater cause? He definitely will. Honestly, it's what I would do."

"Sam!" Dean glared at what used to be his brother. "Not helping your case."

"Crowley will give us enough demons to use as bait," Cas interceded. "He is King of Hell, after all. And power-hungry. He is driven by greed and arrogance, not loyalty to those beneath him."

"Right then," said Dean, rising to his feet. "Let's summon him again." He went to grab the chalk and the ingredients required to perform the summoning ritual. "And let's get a phone number off him this time huh? So we don't have to keep doing this smelly potion summoning shit."

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

Crowley proved to be quite the convenient ally because he agreed to setup a dozen of his demons as bait without even blinking. In fact, the only price the hunters paid for the favor was a few sarcastic insults aimed at Sam's height and Bobby's wardrobe.

Their harsh reminder that Crowley was playing his own game came a day later when Bobby got wind of a surge of dangerously obvious demonic activity in the next state over. Church congregations being disrupted, people speaking in tongues, even a public demon smoke-out. Dean called the demon to ask if he needed a fucking map drawn up because the plan had been to bring Eve to them, to which Crowley replied that Dean and company were not the only pieces on the King of Hell's chess board. He cut off Dean's angry protest by assuring him that his 'merry little band of hunters' were next in line if Grandpa's attempt failed.

"Fuck!" Dean swore, trying his hardest not to smash his phone to pieces in anger after hanging up. "He's giving Samuel a shot at Eve first!"

Jo tilted her head and gave him a one-shouldered shrug. "Is that such a bad thing?" she questioned. "I mean, it's practically a suicide mission. Better him than us, right?"

"No," Dean answered, his distress evident. "It has to be us! We need to be the ones to do it."

"But if Samuel succeeds, Eve will still be dead," the blonde pointed out.

"Cas's grace," Bobby reminded her quietly. "Sam's soul."

Jo's mouth formed an 'o' shape in apologetic realization but Bobby quickly offered a solution.

"Let's get on over there, then," he said matter-of-factly. "We might have enough time."

Renewed hope flickered across Dean's dark expression and his eyes lit up. "You're right," he agreed quickly. "Let's move."

They were packed and in the cars within minutes. They had been geared up and ready for hours, just waiting on Crowley to send his cannon fodder to town to attract their prey. Their shotgun shells were filled with the Ifrit's ashes and their knives were dipped in hot wax and coated it. Ellen had also dissolved the ash into flasks of juice for them to drink right before facing Eve, just in case.

Dean had frowned at her as she handed him his flask. "Seriously?" he griped. "Is this the best we can come up with to gank this bitch? Try to shoot or stab her and if that doesn't work, let her eat us?"

"That about sums it up," Bobby had chuckled before giving Ellen a frown of his own. "Though I daresay it woulda dissolved just as easy in scotch."

It was a twelve hour drive and they reached Mobely, Missouri just after sunup. Sam and Dean didn't waste any time donning the 'fed' suits and heading to the local police station to try and get some information on exactly where the demons were holed up. The local sheriff was certainly surprised to see them, informing them that the feds had already been sniffing around. Both brothers figured it was most likely the Campbells.

"Yeah, that's just the advance team," Sam acknowledged smoothly. "We worked similar cases in Tennessee and Kentucky so we've been brought in as experts. You wouldn't know by chance where they're staying, would you?"

The sheriff nodded. "Ardell says he saw them over at Wayan's Motor Inn out by the highway."

When no other information the local law officer could give them pointed towards a demon hangout location, the hunters headed to the motel in hopes of finding the Campbells instead. There was no sign of them but the motel clerk told them the 'old bald guy' had asked directions to the closed down automotive plant on Highway DD last night then ten minutes later, the whole group had taken off and hadn't been back since.

In less than half an hour, they were all pulling into the abandoned factory's yard. There were two vans they recognized from the Campbell compound and Samuel's truck parked in the front but no sign of any Campbells. In fact, the outside of the place seemed eerily tranquil and serene so they geared up quickly, each downing their flasks of Ellen's ash-laden juice, and headed inside.

The quietness of the large building was deceptive, a sharp contrast to the horrific scene they found inside. The Campbells were everywhere, one or two at every turn, in every room they entered. All dead. Not just laying in peaceful earthy slumber but torn apart, bloody and maimed with body parts strewn everywhere. They recognized a couple of them from earlier meetings, but most were too ripped up to be recognizable.

"This is that Johnny guy," Sam declared, standing with his hands on his hips over a bloody, legless corpse. The distant cousin to the Winchesters had a gaping hole in his neck also and his face was frozen in an expression of unthinkable terror.

Dean felt Tasha's hand slip into his and squeeze his fingers lightly. "I hope Gwen stayed away from here," she whispered. He stole a sideways glance at her and was mildly surprised at the genuine worry he saw on her face. He had been a bit curious at how smoothly she had seemed to deal with Mark being killed and he realized now that maybe she wasn't as unaffected as she was letting on. She had always managed to remain unattached, able to move on and never look back, claiming that Dean was the first and only exception, but it suddenly became obvious she wasn't as good at it as she pretended to be. She had befriended Gwen years ago and it was clear some ties from that friendship remained.

He squeezed her fingers back. "I'm sure she had the sense to stay away from Samuel after what happened at the diner," he assured her.

She gave him an appreciative smile and they all moved into the next room. They were instantly alert when they heard a noise coming from behind a large piece of machinery and Sam and Dean moved round it to investigate.

They found Christian, lying sprawled on the floor with a vacant look in his eyes and a twitching leg. There was a woman leaning over him, her back to them and her face on his chest. At first it appeared she might be giving him medical aid but became quickly evident she was instead sucking blood from his gaping chest wound. She whirled around to face them when Sam's shadow moved across the floor in front of her. Her face was covered in blood, dark rivets of it streaming down her chin and a lustful, glazed look in her eye.

Sam and Dean instantly raised their shotguns at her. _This couldn't be Eve, could it?_

The woman rose to her feet. "The Winchesters," she hissed.

Dean gritted his teeth. How did she know who they were? How did everybody always know who they were?

"You Eve?" he demanded.

She laughed. "You mean Mother? Of course not. Although she will be very disappointed to hear she missed you."

"What are you?" Sam demanded. "Vamp? Ghoul?"

She ignored the question and closed her eyes for a second, tilting her head as if she was listening to some unheard voice. The she opened them again and her body tensed. "Mother sends her regards," she spat, lunging suddenly towards them. Sam raised his shotgun to head height and fired, sending an Ifrit ash shotgun round point blank into her face. She fell to the floor instantly, half her head now dripping in wet, red clumps from the metal panel of the equipment next to her.

"I'd say ghoul," Sam observed, watching her as she twitched and spasm'd her way to death at his feet.

But Dean ignored him, already stepping over the monster's body to kneel next to Christian. The guy was a jerk and an asshole and a few days ago, Dean would have derived a great deal of pleasure pummeling his smug face with his fists... but nobody deserved this. He took off his overshirt and balled it up, pressing it down onto the bleeding chest would. "Bobby!" he called over his shoulder, knowing the man's injuries were out of his league. He turned back to Christian.

"Hey man, you still with us?" he asked, trying to get the man's shifting eyes to focus on him. When they finally did, Christian nodded weakly.

Bobby and Ellen were suddenly there, taking over Dean's attempt to stop the bleeding form Christian's chest. Dean let go and shuffled back a couple of feet to let them work, moving to squat next to his head instead. "What happened here?" he pressed.

Christian may have been a jerk but he was apparently one tough son of a bitch as well because even with the extent of his injuries, he made every effort to answer Dean. "Eve," he croaked. "Crowley offered to give us some demons to attract her here and..." He paused to grunt in pain as Ellen cut his shirt open. "Samuel found the scythe. Grim Reaper Death's scythe. It was supposed... ungh... to be able to kill her but... unnnnh, fuck!" His face contorted onto a grimace of pain and he breathed a series of strained, shallow pants for a moment before his eyes locked once again with Dean's. "It didn't work," he panted. "Fucking thing didn't work."

"And Samuel?" Dean pressed. They had found eleven Campbells so far including Christian but none that looked like they could be the family patriarch.

Christian closed his eyes. "He was in the paint shop with Eve," he answered, his voice getting fainter. His head lolled from side to side a couple of times before he managed to get a few last words out. "Think he's dead." He finally succumbed to unconsciousness.

Dean looked at Bobby. "He gonna die?" he asked flatly.

Surprisingly, Bobby shook his head. "He's got a chance if we can get him to a hospital."

Dean nodded. "Okay, you and Ellen take him," he agreed. They hadn't sunk so far as to let a fellow human die, even if he was the douchebag who had kidnapped Tasha, handed her over to Crowley, threatened and taunted Dean at every turn, taken the Colt and Ruby's knife from them, and finally, helped hand the Alpha blood to Crowley, knowing the demon was going to use it to open a gate to Purgatory. The guy deserved to die, but Dean wasn't going to become his judge and executioner.

Sam and Dean helped load the unconscious Christian into Ellen's Jeep then came back inside to finish looking around with Cas, Tasha and Jo. They found the paint shop and, just as Christian had indicated, found Samuel there too.

He was alive. Barely and in even worse shape than Christian, but he was alive. He was slumped on the ground with his head cranked up against the wall and his hands clutching his bleeding stomach. It reminded Dean of the first time he had seen Samuel die, also to a stomach wound back in 1973, and he couldn't help but think that may not be a coincidence. He never used to believe in fate and all that crap but sometimes...

Once again he found himself kneeling next to a dying relative, asking about Eve as he peered at what was no-doubt a fatal gut wound.

But Samuel wasn't thinking about Eve. "He promised to bring my Mary back if I killed the Mother," he said, his deep voice barely more than a whisper. "The scythe," he curled his lip, glancing over at a plain-looking scythe on the floor a few feet away. "It didn't work. She didn't flinch. Mary..."

"Mom's fine," Dean found himself assuring his grandfather. "She's staying where she is in heaven."

Samuel gave him a skeptical look. "I shouldn't have trusted Crowley," he growled.

"No shit. But I'll deal with this. I'm gonna kill this Mother bitch."

"You'd better."

Dean was aware he should have known better than to expect a "be careful, Dean" or an "I'm proud of you, son" as the Campbell patriarch's parting words. The guy made John Winchester seem like father of the year. He looked down at his grandfather as the older man took his final ragged breaths.

"Oh, I'll gank the bitch alright," he murmured. "But I'm not doing it for you, you bastard. I'm doing it for my family." He looked around at Sam, Cas, and Tasha as he rose to his feet again. "I'm doing it for them."

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**


	22. Last Ditch Effort

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

After searching the rest of the factory and finding no more survivors, the hunters left. On their way out of town, Jo made an anonymous phone call to the local authorities so the dead Campbells wouldn't be left to rot. Some other relative would have to do the honors of salting and burning because the Winchesters didn't have the time. Much to Dean's surprise, Tasha dialed Mark's cell number in hopes of getting a hold of Gwen. Her hunch that Gwen would have held on to her dead cousin's phone was correct and the woman answered with her usual brisk tone. Tasha gave her the news of the Campbell's fate followed by a sincere-sounding apology and hung up soon after, giving Dean a one-shouldered shrug in response to his curious glance.

"They're still her family," she explained.

"And ours," Sam added flatly.

"Don't remind me," Dean grumbled as he tried Crowley's number for the sixth time in as many minutes. This time, however, the demon answered. The hunter proceeded to give him an earful, ranting that Crowley should have known that the scythe, which was now in the Impala's hidden weapon's compartment in the trunk, wouldn't work and that he should have let the Winchesters try their weapon first. The King of Hell impatiently told him to mind his tone and assured him he would send his demon-bait their way by tomorrow afternoon.

"You'd better be ready," Crowley sneered over the phone. "I'm running out of cards here and I don't like being on this bitch's hit list." With that he hung up, leaving Dean to slam his fist into the steering wheel in anger and frustration.

As it turned out, they didn't have to wait until tomorrow afternoon. The two cars arrived back at the cabin in the middle of the night and the seven weary hunters dragged themselves inside. Bobby offered to stay up and check the knives they had dipped in the Ifrit's ashes, retouching them if needed, and waved the others to bed. Dean dropped the duffel with the shotguns on the kitchen counter and wrapped his arms around Tasha's waist.

"Bed sounds good," he mumbled sleepily, nuzzling her ear from behind.

Tasha 'hmmmm'd her agreement, leaning back against him and the pair was soon shuffling down the hallway that led to the bedrooms hand in hand, Jo not far behind them. Sam went straight for the basement stairs without so much as a 'goodnight', heading down to the cot he had been given in the wine cellar. He didn't need to sleep but he apparently wasn't about to be sociable either. Cas dropped himself on the couch with a tired sigh while Ellen moved to help Bobby in the kitchen area.

As Dean pushed open their bedroom door, Tasha stopped, tugging him to a halt as she turned around to face Jo. The blonde huffed at the concerned frown being directed at her.

"Don't worry, I'll lock my door, _Mom_ ," Jo said to Tasha with a roll of her eyes, moving past them to her own bedroom down the hall.

Dean didn't have a chance to ask what the exchange was all about for when he took a step into the room, he was greeted by a young woman in a white dress.

"Locking the door won't help you." She looked to be in her late teens and was sitting on the edge of their bed, leaning back on her palms and smiling sweetly at them.

Dean tensed immediately, jerking the hand he still had wrapped in Tasha's to pull her in tight behind him. "Eve!" he blurted.

He knew better than to hope he was wrong.

"I have been known to use that name," she nodded, sitting up.

Dean didn't wait for her to say anything else; he just bolted, dragging Tasha down the hallway and pushing Jo along in front of him towards the kitchen and the weapons.

"It's Eve!" he shouted in warning to Bobby and Ellen as they ran out into the living room area.

But she was already there. She was now standing behind the open counter that ran between the kitchen and the living room, the array of Ifrit-ash weapons spread out in front of her where Bobby had placed them to inspect. Dean's eyes immediately sought out his friends and he found the older couple stiffly picking themselves up from the floor beneath the kitchen window.

"Bobby!" he cried worriedly, lunging forward only after instinctively spreading an arm out each side to push Jo and Tasha back into the hallway.

He didn't make it three steps into the room. An invisible force hit him like a physical blow and sent him sailing through the air towards the far wall. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Cas racing towards the kitchen from where he had been crashed on the couch, his hair disheveled and wearing nothing but a t-shirt and boxers. The ex-angel's charge was cut short also and he too was flown through the air, slamming into the wall right next to where Dean was sprawled. Both men groaned in pain as they tried to right themselves.

Eve held up a hand. "Settle down," she placated. "Fighting me won't do you any good." She threw a warning glance at Tasha and Jo, who were the only two left on their feet standing at the end of the hallway. Both women froze where they were.

She then turned towards Dean and Cas, who were pulling themselves off the floor as Bobby and Ellen moved around to stand by them. "Dean," she said, her tone eerily chipper. "I have a bone to pick with you and your brother."

"Oh?" Dean raised an eyebrow, deciding that talking and stalling were the best tactics right now until he could get to the duffel or the knives on the counter in front of her. He was surprised Eve had shown up alone, with no entourage of monsters to back her up. Apparently she didn't consider them too much of a threat. His hunter training quickly decided they could use that to their advantage.

"Actually, I have a lot of bones to pick with you," she continued calmly. "All of you. You're hunters, after all. You kill my children."

"Your children?" Bobby sneered. "You mean monsters? Blood-sucking, brain-eating freaks?"

"They're my children - all beautiful and powerful in their own way."

"You just killed a dozen members of my family over in Missouri, sweetheart," Dean countered.

"They were responsible for killing two of my Firstborn," she fired back smoothly. "They were working with Crowley. I have special plans for Crowley."

"Way I hear it, you have plans for everyone," Ellen chimed in. "The demons you can have, but you really think we're just gonna sit quiet while you kill every human on the planet?"

Eve laughed an amused-sounding laugh. "Oh, I'm going to kill the demons," she sang. "And the angels if they ever get the nerve to show themselves. But not the humans. That would be a waste. No, I'm going to turn the humans– make you all my children."

"I'd rather die," Jo scoffed impudently.

"That can be arranged too."

"So how'd you find us?" Dean asked, seeing Sam peeking around the corner at the top of the stairs behind the Mother of All. He didn't know if his brother still had his Ifrit-ash weapon on him but he needed to keep her distracted, just in case. "And what makes us so special we get a personal visit?"

"I've been hearing a lot about you. And this afternoon, one of my favored children told me she ran into you." Her eyes narrowed and her tone hardened. "Then you killed her. You too, Sam." She turned her head as the tall hunter took his first steps into the kitchen. "Don't be rude, skulking about like that. Join us."

A flick of her wrist and Sam was sprawled at Cas's feet over by Dean, Bobby and Ellen. "A little trick I picked up courtesy of my newfound angel-grace," she informed them smugly. Cas glared at her as he extended an arm to help Sam to his feet.

Meanwhile, Dean noticed Tasha using the distraction of Sam's arrival to surreptitiously palm one of the Ifrit-juice flasks off the end of the counter closest to her and slink back into the hallway, no doubt so she could down the thing without the Mother noticing. He gritted his teeth in displeasure but couldn't say or motion anything without bringing Eve's attention to the sneaky brunette. Even though that had been the official plan, Dean wasn't about to let Eve eat his fucking girlfriend whether it was the only way to kill the bitch or not. That just wasn't an option – it never had been. He was the only one going to offer himself up and had covertly made sure he had ingested double the dose of any of the other hunters earlier, ignoring Bobby's growled accusation of ' _always gotta be the fucking martyr_ ' when Sam and the older man had caught him in the act. It had been quite a few hours since drinking the juice but Dean was fairly certain the ashes were still in his system.

Eve let out a bored-sounding sigh and put her hands on her hips. "I know a lot about those who torment and kill my children," she continued. "After all, when their souls are released, they come home to me in Purgatory. Now, I was willing to tolerate the status quo – they kill a few of you and in return, you hunt and kill a few of them - but recently they have been captured and tortured and _that_ , I find unacceptable."

"That was Crowley, not us," Tasha cut in.

Eve turned her attention towards the brunette. "Oh that's right; you don't torture. Unlike your boyfriend." She shot a sly glance at Dean before moving out from behind the counter and walking towards the two young female hunters. She stopped in front of Jo. "What's your name, honey?"

"Jo Harvelle." Jo almost managed to completely hide the quiver of nerves in her voice. Almost.

"Well, Jo, I wasn't pleased when you and your mother over there slaughtered one of my Jinn a few months ago. Not the most refined of my children, but I will enjoy exacting retribution nonetheless." She reached out to touch the blonde's face but Tasha pushed herself in between them.

"Dean was in Hell when he tortured," she defended haughtily, unable to let Eve's earlier comment drop and trying to distract the Mother from Jo, who was completely defenceless at this point. "So fuck you."

Dean had to snicker at Tasha's usual lack of eloquence.

The diversion worked because Eve caught and held Tasha's gaze. She didn't quite take the bait and bite the hunter, but instead leaned in and gave her a small sniff. "Natasha Montoya," she purred.

Tasha's eyes widened slightly in her shock at the Mother of All from freaking Purgatory knowing her family name. It wasn't her legal name – she had no legal name – and she had lived her whole life trying to separate herself from that name and the family curse that came with it, so nobody ever knew it. She wasn't famous or important like the Winchesters so... _how the fuck?_ She swallowed her surprise and stiffened her stance. "Actually I prefer Natasha Malick," she said evenly, trying to mimic Dean's usual bravado when staring down monsters.

"But that's not who you are," Eve countered, tilting her head. "Dago came home to me last year and he spoke of you."

Tasha's heart skipped a beat at the mention of the vampire who had hunted her entire family for generations, killing them all including her mother and her father. She had known him as Diego and he had almost killed her as well last year after capturing and torturing her for three horrendous days that still gave her nightmares. If Dean hadn't shown up and killed him...

"Diego can blow me," she sneered, trying her hardest to steel her nerves.

"He's one of my favorite children," Eve continued, twisting her head around briefly and raising a hand to stop Sam and Dean in their tracks as they had been slowly advancing behind her. A flick of the wrist sent them back against the far wall and she turned to face Tasha once more. "Not a first-born but special in his own way. Dago will be grateful for the chance to see you again once this is my world and I bring him back over here. I think I'll save you for him."

Tasha's heart was pounding in her chest but she refused to let this bitch's taunts rattle her and distract her from her plan.

"He says you taste sweet," Eve smiled sweetly at her though her eyes remained cold and hard.

Tasha couldn't believe her luck. She took a step forward, moving right into Eve's personal space. "Oh yeah? Why don't you try me?"

"Wait!" Dean exclaimed, unable to stay quiet and let this happen. He knew Tasha had just downed the flask of Ifrit juice and was trying to goad Eve into biting her but damnit! - Eve wasn't just going to give her a friendly nibble...

Sam splayed a hand out in front of his brother, his hazel eyes wide with incredulity that Dean was about to interrupt what could be their best shot at Eve. Dean pushed the arm away and stepped forward but was instantly shoved back against the wall again by the infuriating invisible force. He pushed himself upright, temporarily defeated, and this time stayed where he was, tense and clenching his fists.

Eve looked amused, her face now just inches from Tasha's and her hand still outstretched behind her towards Dean. "Maybe I will give you a taste; see what Dago was raving about."

Her face fell forward but instead of her teeth sinking into Tasha's flesh as expected, her mouth pressed onto the other woman's, her lips moving forcefully against those of the hunter. Tasha was stunned at the unforeseen move but pulled herself together quickly and returned the kiss, parting her lips and thrusting her tongue into the Mother's mouth. Encouraged by the queen monster's eager response, she brought her hands up to cup Eve's neck, deepening the kiss and trying her hardest not to gag.

It took a moment for Dean to become aware his mouth was hanging open as he watched his girlfriend make out with the Queen of Purgatory. He felt a nudge on his shoulder and turned to see Sam watching also, an amused smirk on his chiselled face.

"Okay, I know I'm soulless," Sam mumbled quietly, "but you can't say this isn't turning you on too."

Dean was about to say no, even though he really meant yes, but didn't get a chance to get the words out. Eve reached up and fisted her hand in Tasha's hair, jerking the hunter's head forcefully backwards and letting out a sharp gasp. Mother's eyes were wide and her mouth dropped open in a silent gag as her free hand moved to clutch her chest. Her face grew ashen and dark streaks started to weave their way across her cheeks, spreading like vines up towards her eyes. A low-pitched snarl escaped her throat and she glared down at Tasha, who was being held forcibly in place by the hand in her hair.

"Ifrit ash!" Eve hissed and black ooze started to drip from one of her eyes. "You bitch!" With that, she literally tossed the brunette into the air, sending her careening over the kitchen counter and slamming into the fridge.

"Tash!" Dean leapt forward with Cas, Bobby, Sam, and Ellen close behind him, all scrambling for the pile of weapons on the counter. Eve was making choking sounds but managed to straighten up and spun to face them.

"Not so fast," she seethed, her voice raspy and hoarse. The hunters were disheartened to see the black streaks in her face receding already. Another flick of her wrist and the duffel bag along with the half-dozen knives flew through the air with lightening speed, crashing through the window and out into the night like a rocket.

Dean didn't stop his charge but simply changed his goal from the now-gone weapons to the Mother herself. He barrelled into her and received a small but iron fist in the gut for his efforts. He hit the floor with a jarring thud in time to see Cas thrown down the hallway and Ellen take the same trajectory Tasha had. Bobby took the next hit from the flailing Mother, landing somewhere over by the couch with a loud _'oomph!'_ and Jo wasn't far behind him. Dean got an accidental foot in the face from Sam, who was dealt a punch to the face that sent him flying overhead, his back smacking into the stone fireplace.

Dean scrambled to his feet, still groggy and half expecting Eve to use her stolen angel-mojo on him but she didn't. In fact, after just having thrown seven people in seven different directions, she actually staggered slightly on her feet. Her face was still discolored and it occurred to Dean she was still suffering the effects of the Ifrit juice from Tasha's kiss. They needed to move fast.

Sam was one step ahead of him. "She's weak!" the tall soulless hunter cried and was suddenly at Dean's side, swinging a fire poker wildly at the young girl in the white dress. Eve blocked it with a forearm above her head but dropped to the ground after the fourth hit.

While Sam had her down, Dean looked around frantically through blotchy vision and a fuzzy brain for something to finish her off with but every effective weapon they had made had been thrown out the window to God-knows-where. Suddenly a fist wrapped in his shirt, yanked him backwards and pushed him onto the floor. He struggled instinctively, thinking it was Eve, but caught sight of her lying on the hardwood next to him, gasping and wheezing while her eyes glowed with a bright, white light.

"Stay still!" he heard Sam yell at him and then a sharp pain shot up his arm. He looked down to see his brother gripping him tightly right above a deep cut he had just sliced in Dean's arm. "What the fuck...?"

"Careful! Not too deep!" he heard Bobby yell.

Sam ignored them and pulled Dean's arm roughly over to Eve's mouth, squeezing the blood out of the open cut. His head still spinning from the hard hits he had taken, it took Dean a few seconds to register that Sam was feeding the blood to Eve.

Bobby joined the struggle on the floor. "Prob'ly won't do any good," he groused. "Ash'll be too faint by now."

San shook his head. "He took twice as much as us and you know it," he said evenly.

Dean gritted his teeth and allowed Sam to continue squeezing blood out of him. If it killed Eve and saved everyone... fuck it, they could have as much as they needed. Even if it killed him.

Bobby and Jo were on their knees now, struggling to hold Eve's head in place and her mouth open while Sam held Dean's arm over her face, red liquid streaming freely out of it by this point. _Bastard nicked the artery_ , Dean thought to himself, knowing that had been no accident. He was starting to feel the effects of blood loss and slumped slightly into Sam's hold, oddly comforted by the familiar smell and feel of his brother against him. He rolled his head sideways to see if it was working.

Eve was sputtering and attempting to spit the blood out but was effectively pinned. The weaving black lines were back, this time worse than before, and thick trickles of green sludge were pouring from both eyes.

She was dying.

"Cas?" Dean called urgently, looking around to find his friend. "Cas!?"

Cas appeared at the mouth of the hallway, limping badly and with blood streaming down his face. Apparently, he had not agreed with whatever hard object he had struck after being thrown down the hall.

"Cas, your grace," Dean rasped, his voice growing weaker. "Get your grace back!"

"That's enough! Sam! That's enough!" he heard Bobby snap, realizing it was the third time the older man had repeated the words. He felt his arm being pulled from Sam's grasp and Jo was quickly wrapping some cloth around the cut.

"Had to make sure she got a big enough dose," was Sam's growled reply as the tall hunter stood up, shrugging Dean's weight off him.

"Cas," Dean called again, feeling weak but determined as he ignored the ruckus of the dying monster queen and the squabbling hunters next to him.

Cas nodded and dropped to his knees, splaying his hand on Eve's heaving chest. Unable to fight now, Eve was simply twitching and retching, flashes of light coming from her eyes and mouth as her skin started to crumble.

"Remember your promise," Cas said directly to Dean, his voice grave. "This could be bad."

Dean nodded. He remembered Cas explaining that after being inside the Mother of All Monsters, his grace could be damaged beyond repair, leaving Cas insane, in pain, even dangerous. Dean had promised to do whatever was necessary, including killing his friend. "Just do it already," he barked.

"I can only touch her and hope it finds..." Cas stopped talking abruptly and cocked his head. "Close your eyes!" he demanded urgently. "Close your eyes!"

Dean squeezed his eyes shut, hoping everybody around them was doing the same so nobody ended up like Pamela. He could hear chortled sounds of pain that he hoped was that evil bitch Eve choking on her last breaths. After a long moment he opened his left eye just a crack, his face twisted up in an expression of trepidation.

He wasn't greeted by a bright light so he opened the other eye, studying Cas worriedly. The ex-angel… or was it now angel _?_... was shakily rising to his feet, his blue eyes wide with bewilderment. Eve was completely grey, still gasping, and her skin definitely looked like it was solidifying. Chunks were already dropping off. She didn't have long.

"Cas?" Dean ventured, pushing his way to his feet. He swayed a bit as his legs straightened but Jo grabbed his arm and helped him stay upright. He didn't even notice. "Cas, you okay?"

Cas held his hands out in front of him and stared down at them with a dumfounded expression. They were shaking uncontrollably. His lip started to tremble and his breaths turned shallow and raspy.

"Did you get it?" Dean pressed.

Cas gave him a blank look and his mouth opened and closed a couple of times but no sound came out. Finally he just nodded.

Dean's heart jumped. "Okay," he gushed, feeling a renewed and much-needed hope. He gestured down at Eve. "Do your thing, Cas."

The angel's whole body began to shake and his head tipped back, a strangled cry escaping his throat.

"Cas? Cas?" Dean shook himself free of Jo's supporting grasp and lunged for the near-convulsing man.

" _Dean_ ," Cas managed in a choked whisper. His eyes were darting around wildly, as if taking in unseen enemies all over the room, roving anywhere and everywhere except on Dean.

"Hey!" Dean said sternly, gripping Cas's shoulders. "Don't wig out on me yet, Cas," he rasped. "Come on, man. Please. Hang in there. You gotta hang in there long enough to get Sam's soul outta this bitch!"

Cas wasn't responding well and his knees buckled beneath him. Dean increased his efforts to get through to him.

"Cas! Cas, buddy, I need you. You hang in there, I need you to stay with us just a bit longer, 'kay?" He was begging now. "Cas, please! I need you to get Sammy back. Please. Don't do this to me."

Cas's struggle to regain control over whatever was going on inside him was played out in his overly expressive blue eyes. When they eventually locked on Dean's desperate ones, he gripped the hunter's shoulder in return and nodded slowly. He was still shaking as he dropped to one knee next to Eve, who had grown still and was breathing out a long, shuddering last breath.

Cas plunged a hand inside her chest and the hunters standing over them held their breaths in anticipation. The five seconds that Cas's hand was buried inside the Mother seemed to tick by torturously slowly. Dean spared a glance at Sam, or what was left of him, and swallowed at the coldness of his eyes. It was clear Sam was hoping Cas wouldn't find his lost soul in there.

But Cas would find it. Dean was sure of it. Cas _had_ to find it because Dean couldn't face the alternative. This was Sam's last chance - his _only_ chance. Cas would find it.

"It's not there," he heard Cas say.

It was as if time stopped and Dean's next heartbeat took an eternity to complete, his brain trying to wrap around the implication of Cas's words. When that split second was finally over and reality hit him again with a crushing force, his head snapped down to see Cas pulling his hand out of the now-dead Eve and rocking back on his heels.

"No, no," he argued, his tone panicked. "It's in there. It has to be. Look again. It has to be. It has to be! _Look again!"_

Cas merely tilted his head up towards Dean, his eyes full of sorrow. "I am sorry, Dean," he said, his voice deep and somber. "It's not there."

The angel said no more before he simply collapsed, toppling backwards and hitting the hardwood floor with a dull thud. His eyes were closed and he lay still, the only movement the slow rise and fall of his chest.

The room was filled with a heavy silence. Dean looked around to see Sam, Bobby, and Jo staring at him, the latter two with expressions of pure grief and sympathy. Cas lay next to what was left of Eve on the floor. Dean staggered two steps backwards to see past the counter to where Tasha had landed and was relieved to see Ellen helping the stirring brunette up into a sitting position with her back against the fridge. A voice in the back of his mind somewhere was telling him he should go to her but his legs refused to obey. There was a much stronger force that currently had a hold on him, an overwhelming force squeezing his heart like a vice and threatening to crush it to dust.

"Fuck," he whispered to nobody in particular.

The air in the room was suddenly stifling. The realization of what was to come was pounding and hammering away at the edge of Dean's awareness, a realization he was refusing to address just yet - one he wasn't _able_   to address just yet. He walked slowly over to the coffee table and picked up the Glock he had given Cas upon becoming human. With a trembling hand, he held it out to Bobby.

"Don't let him go anywhere," was all he said, tilting his head to indicate his hulking brother standing a few feet away. He then spun on his heel and strode out the front door, alone.

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

Dean knew he was going to have to kill his brother. He couldn't deny how much better of a hunter Sam was - better in a sense he got the job done - but without a moral compass, it was just a matter of time before he killed someone else. He was a danger to the innocent, even to those who called him family. The reality of John Winchester's last command actually coming to fruition seemed so surreal. Dean knew he had failed to save Sam and now... well now he was going to have to kill him, just like his Dad had warned. Dean had worshipped his father until the moment those words had left John Winchester's lips. That had been the turning point. He had been unable to fathom any set of circumstances that would ever make him kill his little brother and he wholeheartedly believed his dad shouldn't have either. _What kind of man would...?_

Yet here he was, about to do just that. He leaned back, sitting on the edge of his baby's hood and planting a hand palm-down on the still-warm metal as he closed his eyes. He had always found the feel of the Impala soothing in troubled times, his one life-long place of solace. Tonight she gave him no such comfort and he let out a long sigh that ended abruptly in a shuddering sob.

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

It was a good half hour before Tasha showed up. She limped up to him in the darkness and leaned against the hood next to him, her hand reaching for his arm.

"Dean," she said softly.

"Not right now, Tash," he answered brusquely, his voice was low and raspy. He wasn't able to share yet for fear of breaking the dam holding the storm of emotions inside. "I can't talk right now."

She nodded in understanding and pushed up to leave.

"No," he threw her an anguished look. "Don't go."

She simply nodded again and settled in next to him, not saying anything but leaning gently against him, her feet resting on the Impala's front fender.

They remained that way for a long time, sitting in close silence. He was grateful for her presence, liking how comforting it was having her near without the obligation of putting into words any of the devastatingly crippling thoughts going through his head right now.

In the few months he and Tash had spent together, they had spent countless hours enjoying each other's silence, something he had only previously been able to experience with Sam. Growing up very much alone in a violent and cruel hunter's life, Tasha had developed some similar habits to the Winchesters such as the ability to enjoy a moment or even a rare few hours of peace and tranquility. She and Dean had spent wonderful, intimate evenings cuddled on Bobby's porch swing without ever voicing a word between them. On more than one occasion, she had sat with Sam and Dean on the hood of the Impala off some remote back road gazing at the stars and not only had she never questioned the curious ritual, it had seemed oddly natural having her there. Dean felt a sense of calm unlike any he had known before in the quietest of times he spent with her, a feeling that carried over into rest of his days and brought hope and peace to his turbulent life. He had never felt more connected to anybody.

Except Sam.

'Connected' didn't even begin to describe how he felt about Sam. From the day his little brother had been born, Dean had been responsible for him. He'd lived with him, lived through him, and lived for him for over twenty-five years. It wasn't just _how_ Dean was, it was _who_ Dean was.

Cas had told him that Sam's soul might be so broken and irreparable that it would actually be cruel to put it back in. Judging by the state the angel's grace had been in, it stood to reason Sam's soul would have been complete mush had they found it. But knowing his brother was at least being spared _that_ fate didn't lessen the gut-wrenching grief Dean was experiencing now.

He didn't even realize he was crying until a muffled sob escaped him. It jolted him out of his tortured mind and he quickly wiped the stray tear away with the back of his hand. He felt Tash press a little closer to his side but she still never said anything, content to just be there if that was what he needed.

"I'm having a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that he's gone," he said, breaking the silence with words that were barely more than a whisper. "I mean, I know he is; I know he never came back from Purgatory and that I've lost him for good this time but…" He squeezed his eyes shut and shuddered. "But it just looks so much like him. And now… what I have to do…"

His voice gave out again, unable to say aloud what it was he had to do. The sheer horror of the physical act of killing his own brother stole the words from him.

"Why don't you let someone else do it?" she whispered.

He shook his head and pulled himself together. "No. Sam's my responsibility. He always has been." He paused, wringing his hands together in his lap. "And I think Sam would – the real Sam – would have wanted it to be me."

They sat for another long while, until the sun's first rays were slipping through the heavy blanket of trees above where the cars were parked. Finally, Dean sighed and got to his feet, allowing Tasha to slip her hand into his as they headed towards the porch steps. Dean didn't even notice he was shaking.

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

Bobby's arm traveled the now-familiar trajectory between the table and his mouth, the glass in his hand trembling as he drained it's warm contents for the tenth or eleventh time. Ellen sat next to him, one arm draped across his shoulders in a futile attempt at comfort. Cas lay sprawled on the couch, unconscious and oblivious, a blanket thrown over him for warmth they weren't sure if he needed or not. Jo was downstairs, ever vigilant, guarding the soulless man who was their prisoner once more.

"I've already lost one boy," Bobby mumbled, barely coherent through his drunken slur. "And now I'm about to lose the other."

Ellen gave his shoulder a squeeze. "Maybe Dean won't do it," she offered. "I mean, do you really think he'll be able to go through with it? You know how he is, how he feels about Sam."

Bobby nodded glumly. "He'll do it. He'll do it and it'll kill him." He reached for the bottle and proceeded to top his glass up. "See," he explained, his tone almost bitter, "There's two parts to Dean. One part is a hunter. Dean don't see how good of a man he is. He don't understand the effect he has on people around him. John loved his sons but he was damn crappy at showing it. The only scrap of self-worth that boy ever felt came from saving people. So he's a hunter. Evil dangerous things must die. He saves people. Black and white. That's one half of who that boy is.

"What's the other half?" Ellen asked quietly.

"What do you think?"

"Sam."

"Yup," Bobby nodded. "Sam has meant everything to Dean since the day that floppy-haired kid popped outta his mama. Still does, in a way. I don't think that'll ever change. So you see, this couldn't possibly have worked out worse. The part of Dean that lives to protect people now has to kill his own brother."

"And that'll kill the other part of him," Ellen finished softly, her finger gently wiping the tear that was rolling down Bobby's cheek.

Bobby sniffed. "I've lost 'em both," he whispered and buried his head in her chest, muffled sobs escaping into the quiet room.

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

Dean and Tasha came into the cabin just as Bobby was pouring his next drink. It only took a second for Dean to notice the older hunter's red, puffy eyes and the sight almost made him lose his nerve. He stood in the kitchen at the opposite end of the table for a moment and the two exchanged a mutual, grief-torn glance.

"I should get it over with," Dean managed to get out.

Bobby just nodded and moved to get up, swaying on his feet slightly as he made it upright.

"You don't have to come," Dean offered.

He got a scowl in reply. "I ain't lettin' you do this by yerself! I'm gonna be right there with you."

He was given a half-hearted eye roll. "If you can stand. Jeez, Bobby, how drunk are you?"

"Not nearly drunk enough," was the mumbled response.

Dean started towards the door to the basement but stopped, cursing as he tapped around his waistband. Bobby shuffled over to the kitchen counter and produced a Glock.

_Sam's Glock._

"That's his favorite," the older man shrugged.

Dean took it, the pistol feeling unnaturally heavy in his grasp, and nodded feebly in agreement. He turned to Tasha. "Stay here."

"What? No."

"Yes," he said firmly. "I don't... I just don't want you to be part of this."

She hesitated but nodded, letting go of his hand and stepping back.

"I love you," she told him quietly as he turned away. He absorbed the words in and steeled himself for what he had to do.

He hadn't reached the top of the stairs yet when a deep voice stopped him.

"Dean."

He turned around, tilting his head to see past a drunk Bobby who was right behind him. "Cas?" he ventured. "That you?"

Cas was suddenly standing right behind the old mechanic, still clad in nothing but a t-shirt and boxers.

"Dude, you winged in!" Dean exclaimed, allowing himself to be glad at least that Cas had his powers back and seemed to be faring much better than earlier.

"Yes," Cas said simply. "My grace has sustained damage and my powers are... lessened, but there is another fortunate turn of events."

"Nothing could make this day 'fortunate', Cas," Dean disagreed ruefully.

"I have Sam's soul," Cas blurted. "It's inside me. It has been in me this whole time; I just didn't know it because I was human."

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**


	23. When All is Said and Done

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

Apparently having your soul shoved back into you by an inexperienced angel running on half-mojo is quite an exhausting affair because Sam slept for two whole days afterwards. He had screamed in pain as it went in then his eyes shot wide and he started gasping and mumbling incoherently, the occasional " _Oh God, I'm sorry!"_ aimed at nobody in particular floating out between the gibberish. Cas was merciful and quickly sent him to sleep with a light touch, telling the others that sleep would allow the young hunter's body to recover so he could better deal with the emotional repercussions that would surely come later.

During that long two days, Sam was never left alone. He was still laid out on the cot in the wine cellar because basement or not, the digs were far more comfortable than many Sam had experienced growing up. It was also quiet down there and Dean didn't want to disturb him with the daytime noise upstairs. Sam's face in slumber always looked so innocent and peaceful. Let him sleep. And when he woke up, Dean would have his brother back.

It was now the second evening and Dean and Cas were taking their turn in the bedside vigil. Sam stirred, tossing his head and murmuring an almost frantic sound causing Dean's brows to pull into a frown. "He will be Sam again, right?" he asked nervously.

The re-graced angel looked up from where he was sitting quietly on a wooden chair at the edge of the room. He had donned his trench coat again, its stained front instantly becoming clean and its recent rips and tears instantly mending themselves. He had regained some of angelic his powers but at a much lesser scale than before and many others were lost altogether. As far as Cas could tell, he was still immortal, still officially an angel, but he feared the lost powers would never return.

He didn't say no to Dean's question but he didn't exactly nod his head either. "He will have a hard time dealing with some of the things he did while soulless," Cas said slowly.

"Yeah, that's my Sammy - Mr. Sensitive," Dean snorted fondly.

Cas nodded. "You know, Dean," he continued. "After I pulled you from Hell, you were my charge. Just you, not both Winchester brothers. And I admit, I didn't pay much attention to Sam. I made no effort to get to know him. He was... tainted with demon blood and I thought less of him for that." He turned to gaze at the sleeping figure on the cot. "But having his soul inside me, even though I was only aware of it for a few moments, I have seen Sam for what he really is."

"What he really is?"

"A good man. His soul is pure and decent; there is an incredible amount of goodness in him. Far more than most, despite the demon blood. And as for you..." He lifted his head to meet Dean's eyes. "How he feels about you..."

Dean swallowed but let the angel continue.

"You don't feel worthy enough to understand that he loves you every bit as much as you love him. That he always has, even when he left you to go to school. That was never about leaving you. He would do anything for you to find happiness and peace. In fact, he wants it much more for you than for himself."

A warmth spread through Dean's insides. He knew this, he thought. All of this. Well maybe, sort of... with doubts. Always with doubts. So it was nice to hear it from someone with such certainty who had first-hand knowledge.

"I want that for him too," he admitted. "But is he gonna be okay?" Cas still hadn't answered his original question.

Cas sighed and pursed his lips before giving Dean a reply. "Yes," he said finally. "There is a tremendous reserve of strength in him also."

There was another stir on the bed and Sam again grew restless, tossing his head from side to side. Dean was next to him in a flash, perching on the edge of the bed. Sam's chest started heaving and his eyes sprang open. "Oh God," he gasped. "Oh God, what did I do? Why did I...?" He frowned and squeezed his eyes shut, as if trying to force a bad memory out of his head. "I'm sorry, Dean," he murmured. "I'm so sorry."

"Hey, time for that later," Dean assured him, laying a comforting hand on his brother's shoulder. "Important thing is you're back." There was a pause. "You _are_ back, right?"

Sam nodded, his eyes still clamped firmly shut. "Yeah, it's me." His words were slurred and Dean felt Sam's muscles relax under his hand. "I let that thing... " He started to drift off. "Succubus... you... Tash... so sorry... " His breathing evened out once more and his head lolled sideways.

Dean let out a deep breath and slumped back into the chair next to the cot. "S'okay little brother. Welcome back."

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

Sam woke all the way up the next morning. He joined them upstairs but remained very quiet and wasn't sharing much of how he was feeling. He was certainly avoiding any serious eye contact with everybody so they knew he remembered most, if not all, of what the robot version of himself had done but nobody wanted to push him into talking about things just yet, so the questions remained unasked.

"Just give the boy some space," Bobby chided, grabbing Dean's arm to stop him from following when Sam quietly announced that he was going to go for a walk to get some fresh air.

Dean huffed but reluctantly sat back down. "This isn't like Sam," he groused. "I bottle things up. That's my M.O. Sam's supposed to talk about shit and talk about shit and _talk_ about shit 'til you're begging him to shut up."

"Give it time, y'idjit. You've got about as much patience as a five year old in Sunday school. You'll be beggin' fer him to stop yammerin' touchy-feely apologies soon enough."

As much as he had always avoided said 'chick-flick moments', Dean could only hope Bobby was right because in the past, when Sam wasn't spouting all his emo-crap after something big had gone down, it meant he was taking off. Chasing his brother across the country begging him to come back _again_ was not high on his wish-list right now.

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

The following afternoon found them back at Bobby's salvage yard. Crowley had removed them from his hit list and called off his dogs like he had promised in the deal they had made with him so the group felt it was safe to return. After all, Crowley had known where they were for days at the cabin and had left them alone. After everything they had been through in the past few weeks, everybody was glad to be back in familiar surroundings.

Thankful for some space after a week in the close quarters of the cabin, Tasha went for a walk through the sprawling expanse of Bobby's yard, ending up in the Winchester childhood clubhouse at the edge of the property. Dean had taken off somewhere, in _her_ car, mysteriously refusing to say where he was going or when he'd be back. She figured his disappearance was Sam-related but she let him be, fairly confident he would let her in if something was wrong. After all, they were in a good place right now, she and Dean.

It had been a long drive back with only the 'new Cas' for company. When he hadn't been spaced out and wincing in pain from whatever his damaged grace was doing to him, he had talked non-stop about feelings and emotions and how different it was being human and how much he had hated it at the time and how much he missed it now. She had listened and sympatized because she truly considered him a friend now, but it was exhausting and she was tired. She took advantage of the alone time to curl up on the old leather carseat in the clubhouse and take a nap.

She woke up to the vibrations of someone coming up the ladder and wiped her eyes, sitting up groggily and smiling as the trapdoor in the floor swung open. "Hey babe," she greeted sleepily, expecting to see Dean's face.

"Actually it's me," announced Sam with an anxious smile. He stopped with only his shoulders inside, not wanting to venture any further until he knew she was comfortable. He didn't miss her eyes widen and her jaw clench a little at the surprise identity of her visitor and his heart sank a little. Not that he blamed her. "You mind if I come in?" he asked politely.

The fleeting nervousness passed from her features quickly and she was quite convincing when she waved him up. "Course," she said. "It's your clubhouse, after all."

He chuckled, his eyes taking in the child's writing on the wall behind her. _Domus Winchester._ Fuck he was such a geek. He dragged his large frame up through the small hole, grunting at the awkwardness as he rose to his feet inside, hunched over uncomfortably to fit. "Funny, I remember this place being bigger," he commented.

"That's coz you were a runt back then, from what I hear," Tasha teased good naturedly. She scooted to one end of the seat to make room for him.

Sam shook his head, choosing instead to sit on the floor across the small room from her with his back against the wall and his feet stretched out before him. He didn't want to make her feel any more uncomfortable than she probably already did.

"I remember everything I did while I had no soul," he blurted, getting right to the point. Her body stiffened slightly but she didn't say anything, just nodded slowly. He took a deep breath. "I'm so sorry, Tasha. I don't even know what to say, what I did..."

"It wasn't you."

"Well I remember it like it was and, Jesus, I just can't believe I did that to you." He leaned forward and pinched the bridge of his nose, hating himself more with every word said aloud.

"I guess I should apologize too," she chuckled, clearly trying to cut short the awkwardness of his apology. "For trashing your car."

A snort escaped the hunter. "I deserved a lot worse than that."

"It wasn't you, Sam. I'm just glad to have you back."

Sam wasn't going to let himself off so easily. "No, I have to say this, Tash. First I let Dean get turned by a succubus and then I let him almost kill you. I mean, I actually set you up. I was waiting for him to do it. I...I..." He floundered in his apology, no words seeming like they would be enough. When he looked up at her, he could tell she hadn't been aware of the level of his involvement in the succubus incident, for shock registered in her brown eyes. "Honestly, you guys probably should have killed me way back then," he finished.

He saw the lump move down her throat as she swallowed. "Well then we wouldn't be sitting here having this conversation, would we?" she said. "As friends. With all that put behind us already."

Sam was grateful for her efforts to let him off the hook but he needed to get the rest off his chest. "About the other thing..."

"Don't worry about it, Sam. Already forgotten."

Her words were too forced, spoken too quickly. Of all the ways he had wronged Dean's girlfriend during his soulless stint, trying to force himself on her tore at him the most. If he hadn't been so gung-ho to find that shifter Alpha, he would have finished what he had started that night and even the thought of that sickened him. She was brushing it off but he knew her past, he knew she had troubling memories of foster home number six, of being fifteen having to deal with an abusive caregiver all alone, with nobody to believe her and nobody to turn to.

 _Crap_ , Sam realized. She hadn't told Dean. It was still bothering her, probably more than she was admitting even to herself, but she didn't want to come between him and Dean.

"It's not forgotten," he said softly. "I don't expect you to ever forgive me, Hell, I know I'll never forgive myself, but I just wanted you to know that I am sorry. That it was completely my soulless hormonal self trying to take what I wanted at any cost and you did nothing wrong and nothing to encourage it or give me the impression that you wanted it or..." He frowned and tipped his head back against the wall, not knowing enough about these things to even guess what feelings could be going through her head. "I know it still bothers you, Tash. I know you well enough to know that. I just want..." He gave her a pleading look. "I want you to feel safe around me."

Her eyebrows arched into a look of sympathy and she climbed off the seat, taking the few steps over to him before sinking to her knees and wrapping her arms around his neck. "I do," she breathed, her words muffled into his neck. "I know that wasn't you. I admit I'm still dealing with it but I don't think of it as you. I mean, yeah, it happened but it was someone else that did it."

She sat back up and gave him a sheepish smile. "So we done with the schmoopy talk now? We good?"

He grinned. "Yeah, we're good." The tension in the room dissipated and he felt the familiar easiness that they had always shared fall back into place. "But seriously," he ventured, giving her a crooked smile. "I can't believe you tossed my car into a ravine. That thing was worth thirty five grand, easy."

She laughed, shifting to sit down on the floor next to him. "That was a pretty sweet ride, too," she agreed. "If you hadda thrown a couple of racing stripes over the top, fuck, that would have been a nice car."

" _Would_ _have_ been being the operative words," Sam retorted. "Remind me never to piss you off again."

She punched him playfully. "Oh, I don't think you'll need another reminder."

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

Sam was feeling less burdened after his conversation with Tasha and he headed back to the house. There was still plenty of guilt weighing on him though and he took the long way to prolong the walk, building up his nerve for the next apology. As he was passing Bobby's detached mechanic shop, he heard a noise inside. Slowly swinging the door open, he stepped in to investigate and found Dean dressed in coveralls, applying tape to the roof of Tasha's Challenger.

"What are you doing in here?" he greeted his brother, who jumped in surprise at the unexpected intrusion.

"Crap, Tash isn't with you, is she?"

"Uh, no."

"Good. I asked Jo to keep her occupied."

"Oh, well Jo lost her then," Sam laughed. "Tash must have given her the slip because she's in the clubhouse on the old water tower right now."

Dean nodded, seeming satisfied with the reply.

"Do I dare ask what you're doing to her car?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Dean scoffed, going back to applying lines of tape on the Dodge's red roof.

Sam had no idea but didn't really feel like giving his brother a chance to make fun of his ignorance so he didn't press the issue. He was actually glad Dean hadn't gone into town like he had thought because he had been looking for a chance to talk to him. Alone out here in the shop seemed as good a place as any.

"So, Dean," he opened the conversation.

"Yeah?" His brother never took his eyes off his work with the tape.

"I need to say I'm sorry."

Dean's head whipped around and he gave Sam a long, hard stare before standing up straight and pulling off his gloves one at a time. "Well, I figured this conversation was coming at some point," he said with a nod. "And Sam, you need to know it's fine. You had no soul. Everything you did - none of it was really you. I know that."

"Everyone's so quick to let me off the hook," Sam huffed. "But I knew what I was doing the whole time – I just didn't care. I can't forget that."

"Honestly, you soulless was kinda bad-ass," Dean grudgingly admitted. "You saved our necks more than once, even if you were a total dick."

"You have no idea just how much of a dick I was."

Dean snorted. "Oh trust me, I know you were a dick. You fed me to a succubus, remember?"

Sam closed his eyes, hearing his recent actions out loud stinging his newly-regained conscience. "That's not even close to the worst I did."

The last trace of mirth slipped from Dean's face and he turned and leaned against the Challenger. "I guessed there was more than we know about."

Sam took a deep breath. "I tried to rape Tash," he blurted.

Dean's whole body froze, his face fixed in an unreadable expression. After a long moment, his fingers curled into fists at his sides and his jawbone flexed as he gritted his teeth. He moved to speak a couple of times but clamped his mouth shut before any sound came out. Eventually he turned away, rubbing his hand down across his face with his back turned. Sam knew his brother was struggling with how to feel about the admission and fighting to control his reaction.

Proof of a fact that until now, only Sam seemed to have realized; that he couldn't get real and complete forgiveness from everybody with a simple apology and a handshake.

"I didn't," he continued, speaking to his brother's back. "But only because the hunt got in the way, or I would have. I know she didn't tell you."

Dean turned around. "Why are _you_   telling me?" His voice was strained.

"Why do you think? Because it's eating at her and she's too worried about coming in between me and you to talk to you about it."

Dean pressed his lips together, nodding his head. "You know, I'm glad she didn't tell me."

"Because you wouldn't have waited until Cas woke up and realized he had my soul in him?"

Dean snorted a humorless huff of laughter. "Probably not."

"You would have been right to do it," Sam told him honestly. "To kill me. You couldn't have let me live like that. I was a monster. The things I did..."

"We're all gonna hafta let those things go, Sam. That includes you."

"I'm trying. Trust me, I'm trying. Nobody hates soulless me more than me. I wish I didn't remember everything I did, Dean. I wish I didn't remember the way I rationalized and justified it all."

Dean's expression softened and Sam recognized the familiar _'big brother won't say it but he loves you'_ look. It spurred him on.

"You want to know the worst thing I did?" he asked rhetorically. "The thing that bothers me the most of all the terrible things? More than killing that old lady, more than attacking Tash? It was leaving you in that fire." Sam felt his throat constricting but kept talking. "I saw you. I still had the mask and after I got the ashes, I saw you lying there and I just left. I thought to myself, _'he's not worth the risk'_. I mean, the first time you saved my life, Dean, you were five years old and you carried me out of a fire and I just _left_   you there to die in one."

He choked a little on the last words and paused to compose himself. Dean remained silent.

"God, how could I just leave you there?"

"You didn't," Dean said evenly. "That wasn't you. You were in Cas that whole time, remember? And Cas _did_ come in to save me. I can't help but think that was your doing too."

Sam swallowed, unable to shed his guilt just yet. "I'm not so sure. Cas would do anything for you, including run into a burning building; you know that. I still had my memories, Dean. I just don't understand how I could not care with all those memories of you caring about me floating around in there, everything we've been through together. That should have meant something, soul or no soul." Sam knew his eyes were beginning to water but he didn't care.

Dean took three brisk strides over to him and gripped his arm.

"Listen to me, Sam, coz you need to understand this. Your soul is who you are, not your body and not your memories. I know this. I know this because I was in Hell. That was really me down there. For forty years I suffered and I burned and I... well, you know what else I did - I broke. _That_   was me. My body was just rotting away in that grave up here. **_I..._** " He jammed his finger into his chest to get his point across, " ** _I_**   was in Hell with my soul."

Sam just nodded, his fingers absently fisting back in Dean's coverall sleeve.

"Nobody in this house holds you accountable for what you did, you got that? That was some other guy." Dean gave him a long, hard look. "Do you understand me?"

Sam nodded again, the tightness in his chest loosening slightly as another ball of twisted guilt unfurled itself within him. His big brother was certainly convincing.

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

Dean had always taken pride in his handiwork. Bent over the Challenger's hood, he was so completely engrossed in what he was doing that he didn't even hear the shop door open behind him a second time. He was applying the second coat of white paint to the open lines between the tape when he heard a gasp and spun around to see Tasha standing a few feet away, her mouth gaping open in shocked confusion. He released the trigger of the paint spray gun in his hand and tried to move his bulk in front of the car, realizing belatedly how futile the gesture was.

"Crap, Tash, what are you doing here?" he blurted, laying down the spray gun.

"I was out for a walk and heard a noise," she stammered, staring past him at the taped-up mess her car was in. "What the Hell did you do to my car?"

He let out a defeated groan and his shoulders slumped. "It was supposed to be a surprise," he told her, taking off his gloves. "Jo was supposed to be keeping you busy."

She walked forward, her forehead still scrunched up in confusion. "Is that why she was being so clingy? She was weirding me out so I ditched her." Tash was standing next to Dean now, by the hood of the car and she let out another gasp and grabbed his forearm. "Oh my God! You're painting racing stripes!"

Dean grinned at the expression of pure joy on her face as she figured it out. "Happy Birthday, babe."

She quirked an eyebrow at him. "Huh?"

He laughed. "Please tell me you remember it's your birthday tomorrow."

She looked genuinely surprised. "Oh. Well, yeah. Wow, you got me a birthday present."

"Isn't that what boyfriends are supposed to do?" He slid his hands around her waist and pulled her up against him.

Her face tilted up to meet his. "I suppose. I don't know," she answered sheepishly. "I haven't had a boyfriend on my birthday since uhh... ever. I've always been alone. The last birthday present I got was a hairdryer from Fostermom Number Seven when I was sixteen." She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly before pulling away and actually giggling as she turned her attention back to the car. "How did you know I'd want racing stripes?"

Dean snorted. "You only mentioned it every time we passed some old Mustang that had them or those new fruity yellow Camaros that look like the frigging Transformer."

"Hey, Bumblebee's hot," Tasha laughed, turning back towards him with a seductive looking smirk. "I'll tell you what else is hot," she purred, running a hand up the front of his coveralls. "You, in this outfit."

Dean pulled her back against him and stole a kiss. "So you like your present?"

"I love my present," she answered back as she tugged the front zipper down from his neck to his waist and pushed the coveralls back off his shoulders so they bunched around his hips.

"Why do I feel like I'm the thing getting unwrapped here?" he snickered.

"Because I want to show you how much I love my present," she said, her voice sultry and full of promise. Her deft hands were already working on his belt and before he could insist he was the one who should be doing the giving, she was tugging the denim down past his hips. She dropped to her knees slowly, her tongue playing with each of his nipples through the fabric of his tee-shirt before licking a strip along the elastic waist of his boxers. A low groan escaped Dean as she pulled him free and peppered soft kisses along his length.

"Unh," he groaned, one hand automatically fisting in her hair as his head tipped back and he let her do her thing. She licked the length of him, her hand expertly following her tongue up and down as she got him nice and wet. She teased the head with the tip of her tongue, here eyes turned upwards to fix on Dean's as she did so, before wrapping her lips around him and taking him in slowly, inch by inch.

Another groan escaped Dean. Good God, did he deserve this? He had always believed he had a shitty life, that no good luck ever came his way. Well, that theory had been blown to Hell the day Tasha had told hims he loved him. Somehow, through all the pain and the death and the loss and the shit, he had come out of it with the love of an amazing woman who, on top of it all – _oh fuck! that felt good_ – who gave the best head… ever. Talk about the proverbial cherry on top.

"Oh, babe, just like that," he encouraged, guiding her head back and forth with his hand in her hair as she sucked him hard and deep, drawing him in and out of her hot, wet mouth.

She moaned around him and he groaned at the added vibrations, then gasped when she shifted her jaw and dragged her teeth lightly up the underside of his hard length. Crap, this was too much. He was getting too close. He reached down and cupped her face, pulling her upwards.

"No way, Tash," he panted. "It's your birthday. Birthday girls first."

She stood up, pressing her chest against him, her eyes dancing with anticipation. "Oh, is that how it is?"

He nodded and gripped the hem of her t-shirt. "You have too many clothes on."

She lifted her arms in the air, allowing him to pull the clothing off over her head. He tossed it on the floor and immediately brought his hands up to cup her breasts, running his thumbs over her nipples, which were already hardening beneath the stiff lace of her bra. He tugged the fabric aside and dipped his head down, taking the left one in his mouth.

She moaned loudly, her hand finally stopping its slow pumping of his hard length and moving up to pull his head further into her chest. "Unnnhhh, Dean," she whispered, her voice thick with need. "Wh-what if someone comes in?"

"They won't," he assured her absently, moving his attention to her other breast. Frankly, he didn't care if anyone came in; he had no intention of stopping. One hand undid the clasp of her bra in a millisecond and he tossed the garment aside, moving right along to the button and fly of her jeans. He managed to pull them and her underwear down and off without ever allowing his mouth to leave her breasts, alternating between teeth and tongue as he tortured the puckered nipples.

He grinned at the lustful noises now coming from her and she was completely pliant in his arms as he picked her up, spun her around, and set her on the hood of her car.

"The p-paint job," she said breathlessly.

"I'll fix it later," he growled, his hands roaming everywhere and his mouth moving in to toy with the sensitive spot on her throat. She clung to him as she parted her knees and rested her feet on the bumper, spreading her thighs enough to pull him closer in between them.

He felt her hands on his length again, tugging gently, running up and down and he groaned. He wasn't going to last if she kept that up. He pulled her away gently, shaking his head and giving her a mischievous grin as he sank to his knees on the garage floor in front of her. "Birthday girls first, remember."

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

Sam entered Bobby's dusty, cluttered study to find Cas sitting at the older hunter's desk reading. It actually looked like he was flipping through the book giving each page a cursory glance but Sam knew that with his angel mojo back, Cas was in fact, reading every word. Curious, he glanced around at the title of the book, wondering what texts on the supernatural would contain things Cas didn't already know.

_Classics of French Poetry._

Okay, not what Sam was expecting. But then again, Dean had mentioned that Cas seemed... different. Not that their angel friend was normal before, but since regaining his grace, he seemed more distracted, preoccupied, even spaced-out, and more 'Oprah'. Dean had rolled his eyes at the last one. It could be the turmoil Cas's damaged grace was wreaking inside him, though Cas had insisted he was figuring out how to 'adjust' and that he would learn to deal with it, but Sam thought there may be more to it than that.

He hadn't spent much time with the angel since waking up from being soulless, but had sought him out today since he seemed to be on a roll. This conversation, however, wasn't to be so much an apology as a thank-you. After all, he owed Cas everything. Cas had saved him in more ways than one, saved him in both body and soul.

"Hey Cas," Sam greeted him, lowering his tall frame into one of Bobby's uncomfortable wooden chairs.

Cas looked up, his blue eyes sparkling and a smile spreading across his face. "Hello, Sam. I am glad to see you. You should know everyone is in far better spirits now that you have your soul back."

"Yeah, about that," Sam acknowledged. "I'd like to say thanks."

Cas tilted his head, his smile still there. "You're welcome."

Sam wasn't content to leave it at that. "You know, I remember what happened in Purgatory and it makes a lot more sense now," he ventured. Cas didn't reply but folded his hands on top of the table, giving Sam his undivided attention. Sam continued. "Way I see it, that pain I felt was those shadow things ripping my soul out. Then when you showed up, you jumped in and you must have taken it from them, maybe jammed it in you for safekeeping but then they ripped your grace out and I hurled us back through the gate."

"I liked having you inside me," Cas said simply, his face solemn and pensive.

Sam ignored the awkwardness of the angel's words. "Dean told me your grace is damaged from being in Eve," he said. "And he said that my soul would have probably been complete toast if it had been in her too. Or worse if still in Purgatory. So thanks."

Cas nodded. "You definitely would prefer being inside me than inside Eve."

A small giggle came from the direction of the living room and Sam glanced over to see Jo standing in the doorway, her slim silhouette outlined from the well-lit room behind her. He gave her a sheepish roll of the eyes but said nothing as Cas kept talking.

"Human souls are very fragile," Cas continued. "I hope I didn't hurt you by thrusting you inside me so recklessly."

Another snicker from the doorway. Sam felt a flush in his cheeks.

"And I was worried also when I put it back inside you, for I am inexperienced at such things. I've never touched one before."

"Uh no, Cas, I'm sure you were gentle. I feel fine."

"That is fortunate. You have a good soul, Sam. It is brave, warm, and caring. I am sorry I ever doubted that. The truth is, when I was first assigned to your brother, I was too taken with him and his righteous complexity to really notice you for what you are. Having spent a few weeks together with you in such an intimate manner, I must say, I am honored to be your friend."

"Uh, thanks, I guess." Sam raised an eyebrow across the desk. "You seem different, Cas. Is everything alright with you?"

Cas nodded. "I'll be fine. Thank-you. My damaged grace is a little uncomfortable but I will learn to manage that. I have lost some of my powers and my link with Heaven is weak, but... but the hardest part is dealing with this emptiness I feel not having you inside me anymore."

Sam gave Jo a quick glance but she had her hand over her mouth, stifling her laugh.

"But you are right that I am different now," the angel kept talking. "Perhaps having a soul inside me with real feelings for a while has changed me. Perhaps having you inside me has somehow altered my perspective on things."

The blonde's snickering returned. Cas remained completely ignorant.

"Everything is different experiencing it with emotions," he babbled. "Everything felt more intense, more vivid, more fulfilling while I had you inside me."

Jo giggled again and Sam grew more flustered, his embarrassment leaving him at a loss for words. "You don't, uh, feel those uh, things now?"

"Sometimes, when one person is missing, the whole world seems depopulated," was Cas's cryptic reply.

"Uhh...I'm not sure I get that, Cas."

Cas smiled and held up the book of poetry in his hands. "De Lamartine," he said in way of explanation.

"He's saying he misses you," Jo chimed in, finally coming into the room to join them. "And he wished he could have you, you know, _thrust_ inside him again. Filling him up, giving him that sensational feeling..."

"Indeed," Cas nodded, still completely oblivious. "Sam, I hope we can maintain our bond now that I'm no longer human."

"So you don't have feelings as an angel?" the blonde inquired, clearly enjoying Sam's discomfort.

"I do," Cas sighed. "But not as intensely. I do not feel Sam inside me anymore or the more powerful sensations having him there brought me."

Jo lost it at that, he shoulders shaking in her attempt to refrain from full-out bursting into laughter. Sam shot her a glare and cleared his throat. "Aren't you supposed to be watching Tasha?" he accused.

She shrugged. "Yeah, I was but she just disappeared."

"Last I saw her she was in the old clubhouse," Sam pressed. "What if she catches Dean?"

The blonde's smirk disappeared and she stood up. "Oh, I'd better go check on her."

Sam rose to his feet also. "Uh, I'll come with you." He gave Cas a quick smile. "See you later, Cas. Take care, man."

He and Jo hurried out the door, leaving the angel to his poetry.

"Maybe you should stay with him," Jo suggested with a smirk. "Work on maintaining that new bond of yours." She turned and walked backwards in front of him and mimicked Cas's deep raspy voice. "I wish I knew how to quit you, Sam Winchester."

Sam shook his head, an embarrassed smile still on his lips. "He's adjusting," he defended.

"Yeah, to not having you up inside him anymore."

"Shut up."

"I think it's sweet."

"Shut up."

"He's got a man-crush."

"Geez, you're worse than Dean."

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

"Oh God! Dean!" Tasha cried out, her thighs clenching on either side of Dean's face and her hands clasping in the short strands of his hair. "Fuck!"

Dean grinned, all the while never stopping the thrusting of his tongue in and out of her dripping heat. He looked up to see her back arching upwards and her head thrown back. _Oh fuck, what a sight_. It spurred him on and he added a finger to the mix, sliding it in and out slowly and curling it to hit just the right spot.

It only took half a minute more until she flew over the edge. Her heels dug into his back as she screamed and quivered around him, her toes curling and his name spilling from her lips over and over. He kept going, licking and probing and sucking gently through the throes of her orgasm until she came down. He watched her, enjoying the familiar satisfied exhale and the way she licked her lips before opening her eyes to search his out.

He met her gaze with a smug smirk and rose to his feet. "That was nice," he said, his voice low. "But don't think I'm finished with you yet." He grabbed her face and pulled it up to his, kissing her hard. She returned it with equal vigor, releasing those barely perceptible breathy moans into his mouth that drove him so crazy.

He reached a hand down and shoved at his jeans and boxers, pushing them down to his knees along with the twisted up coveralls. Not wasting any more time, he wrapped a hand around his length and pressed it back and forth along her wetness. A desperate moan escaped her lips as he teased her and she bucked her hips forward, trying to get him to push inside her. As much as he loved the games they played, he was far too horny at this point to tease her for long and he gave in quickly, ramming in to the hilt with one hard thrust.

She cried out, her hands slamming onto the hood behind her, into the wet, white paint of the new racing stripe. He set a hard, fast pace, sliding in and out easily with the juices from her recent orgasm. She was swollen and tight and so damn hot he kept increasing his speed, pulling her thighs up around his waist to get a better angle.

She was moaning loudly with every plunge and her hands moved farther apart to brace herself against his ever-increasing thrust, smearing white paint on the untouched red hood behind her. The sound of skin slapping on skin filled the garage, competing with Tasha's lustful cries and Dean's groans of pleasure. He kept going, loving the sight of her spread out and panting beneath him, loving that he could bring her the level of pleasure he was seeing on her face right now, and loving the pressure that was building up inside of him. God, he could never get enough of this. He bent down over her to take a nipple in his mouth again, sucking gently and giving her a soft sensation in direct contrast with the almost frantic way he was drilling into her. She went into overload, not knowing whether to moan or scream and the sounds that came out of her were a strangled combination of the two, broken occasionally by a breathy " _Dean!"_

He kept up the momentum, one arm curled behind the small of her back, pulling her onto him with every forward thrust, and one hand fisted in her hair, tilting her head sideways as he sucked on her neck. "I hope you're close," he panted, knowing he wasn't going to last much longer.

"Uh-huh!" was all she could voice in reply and he grinned again, slamming himself into her even harder.

"Oh fuck! Tash!" he said through clenched teeth, trying to hold out until she came again. "Fuck!" He grabbed her ankles and pulled them up over his shoulders, never slowing his pace. The new angle had her screaming with the first thrust and he pounded but a few strokes into her before she burst, arching her back and screaming his name into the shed at the top of her lungs. Two more thrusts and Dean exploded also, his fingers digging into her hips as he tipped his head back and released, pumping in and out a few more times slowly as he emptied himself into her.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck," he panted, bending over her to bring is face close to hers.

She smiled at him through heavy breaths, bringing her arms around his neck to hold herself up. "Y-you're gonna have qu-quite the mess to clean up on my c-car," she told him.

He glanced behind her at the white smudges on the red paint and shrugged. "Definitely worth it," he laughed, pulling her up against him. She slid off the hood onto her feet, still clutching him tightly for support. When she finally let her hands drop, she snickered at the white smudges on his neck and t-shirt.

"Not just the car," she teased him.

He smirked, stepping back to pull up his coveralls. "You haven't seen your ass yet," he told her, laughing as she gasped and twisted around trying to get a glimpse of how much white paint was on her back side.

"That's gonna be Hell to get off," she bitched.

He handed the brunette her t-shirt. "Let's get into the shower before it dries too much," he said with a lewd arching of the eyebrows. "I'll get that paint off."

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

Sam and Jo reached the clubhouse to find Tasha was no longer there.

"Crap. Think she found Dean?" Jo frowned as she climbed back down the ladder to a waiting Sam.

"Better go check," the tall hunter grimaced.

The two headed over to the shop to find it empty also. "So where do you think Dean went?" Jo wondered out loud, staring at the half-painted Challenger.

"Maybe she didn't catch him," Sam shrugged, looking around. "Maybe he went for supplies or .. oh God," he cut himself off when his eyes fell on the hood of the car.

Jo raised an eyebrow at him. "What?"

"Uhhh," Sam chuckled. "What does that look like to you?" he asked, pointing.

Jo followed his finger with a curious expression. "What are you...oh my God." Her hand came up to cover her mouth. "Is that a butt print?"

Sam snorted a short burst of laughter and nodded. "That's what I was thinking."

"And those are hand prints," Jo continued, studying the wet paint smudges on the hood and pointing a little farther up. She chuckled and splayed her hands out behind her, mimicking the pose the evidence was displaying. "Yup, that's about right. Geez! They'll do it anywhere."

"Seems that way," Sam laughed along with her for a moment, glad the humor of the situation was overriding the tension that had been hovering between them since he had regained his soul. The laughter finally faded, a few last chuckles escaping into the shop before he pursed his lips and gave Jo a serious look.

He had been making his way down a list and Jo was next. Now seemed like a good time.

"Listen, Jo, about what happened when I was soulless..."

Her shoulders stiffened slightly at the turn in conversation but she quickly waved a dismissive hand in the air. "We don't need to get into that."

"No, seriously," he persisted. "That was low and insensitive and you really didn't deserve to be treated that way. I'm sorry."

"Sorry we did it or sorry you were such a dick afterwards?"

Sam was caught off guard by the question and stammered for a second before answering. "Um, the second part," he said hesitantly. "Definitely the second part... just."

The blonde smirked then gave her shoulders a little shrug. "I knew what I was doing, you know. I'm not a little kid anymore Sam."

The tall hunter got up the nerve to pull on a sly smile. After all, he did still have the memories of that night with her. Vivid memories of her lithe, sweat-soaked body arching and bucking towards him, her head tilted back as breathless pants made her chest heave, her lean legs wrapped around his hips pulling him deeper inside her, her own hand clamped over her mouth to quieten her moans. "No, you're _definitely_ not that," he added, clearing his throat right after for effect.

She thumped him on the shoulder, hard. "Sam Winchester, don't you be turning into another Dean."

He laughed and pointed to the Challenger's smudged hood. "I will never be that bad."

"No, probably not," she acquiesced.

"So, friends?" He extended a hand.

She nodded and grasped it, giving it a firm shake. Sam was too relieved to notice the pang of disappointment hidden beneath the smile she gave him. "Friends," she answered simply.

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

Ellen was washing dishes when Bobby stepped up behind her and began to nuzzle her neck. "Have I told you lately how much I like havin' you around this old house?"

She grinned, tilting her head to give him better access. "Yeah, but feel free to say it again."

"I like havin' you around," he repeated. "And I was thinkin' we should maybe make it a more permanent thing."

Ellen's hands stopped scrubbing the blackened bottom of Bobby's well-worn frying pan and dropped it back into the sudsy water. She spun around to face him, mouth hanging slightly agape in her surprise. "You mean me move in here? Are you sure you're ready for that?" she questioned.

Bobby shrugged. "Why in the Hell not?"

"Well we'd have to tell the kids for one," Ellen stammered.

A snort escaped the bearded hunter and his hands moved to her waist. "Ain't like they haven't figured it out yet." He raised an eyebrow at her. "And you do know they're full grown adults, right? Every one of 'em seen more shit than most people will in ten lifetimes."

He jumped back as the back door burst open and Dean and Tasha came in, giggling and covered in paint. They gave the older pair sheepish grins as they passed quickly through the kitchen and headed upstairs, mumbling something about a paint can spilling.

Ellen shook her head. "Grown-ups?" she snorted. "That there looked like a pair of love-struck teenagers to me."

Bobby chuckled. "You got a point." He slid his hands back into the curve of her waist. "Speaking of love-struck…"

This time Ellen responded and brought her wet hands up to cup his face fondly. "You ol' charmer you." She leaned forward and kissed him, the dishes forgotten.

The pair only got to enjoy each other for a few minutes before they were interrupted once more, this time by Sam and Jo. The two young hunters barged in, giggling and chuckling over some private joke and not even noticing the parental pair over by the sink as they made their way through to the living room.

Ellen watched them with a frown. "You see what I'm seein'?" she questioned Bobby. "Now, I ain't sure I like that any more than I did when she had a thing for Dean. No offence to your boys."

Bobby snorted, entirely unoffended. "This is Sam we're talking about, hon. He's got his soul back, remember? It'll take him six years to make a first move and by then she'll be married off to some other tool with little rugrats tuggin' at her apron strings."

Ellen snorted and gave him a friendly slap on the chest. "That's not helping."

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

Dean lay on his back, his arm curled around a naked Tasha who was tracing lazy circles around the tattoo on his chest. The couple had stayed in the shower until the water had turned cold then moved things right along into the bedroom, both still wanting more of each other. Now, thoroughly sated and even more thoroughly spent, Dean relaxed and enjoyed one of his favorite things, an unguarded, intimate moment with the woman he loved.

"I think my ass is going to be red for days," Tasha bitched, even though the ends of her lips were curled up in a contended smile.

"Hey, I got the paint off, didn't I?" Dean chuckled.

"Yeah and I think you enjoyed it a little too much," she berated teasingly.

"It was either that or I got out the paint thinner." He leaned over and kissed her temple. "Don't worry. I'll make your ass feel better," he promised, reaching a hand down to give it a gentle caress. "Just give me a few minutes to recharge. I'm not as young as I used to be."

He felt her laugh reverberate through his chest. "If this is you getting old, I hate to think what you were like at twenty. I think you would have killed me."

"I got some juice left in me, babe. I'm not geriatric yet."

She let out a sigh of pure pleasure. "I could die right now and be happy."

He kissed her again, this time on her lips, his index finger lifting her chin towards him. They made out lazily, her naked body pressed up against the full length of his, their legs entwined. Finally he pulled back for air, cupping her face and giving her an intense look. "I can't wait to grow old with you," he said, his voice low.

He didn't give her a chance to respond before he twisted around, reaching for his jeans on the floor behind him and fumbling for the pocket. His fingers curled around what he was looking for and he turned back to face her.

"This wasn't meant to be a birthday present," he told her, his fist still closed around the tiny object. "I was going to give it to you a while back but I got sidetracked by all the crazy shit that went down and I didn't get it finished until last night. Cas helped me out with the translations and the final polishing."

The look she was giving him was starting to resemble weirded out so he hurried to his point. "It's just a little something to show you… um, I wanted you to know how much you mean to me and I wanted to do something nice for you so…" He opened his clenched fist, revealing the silver ring he had made.

Her eyes widened and she gasped. "Whoa, Dean, uh…"

"It's not a wedding ring," he explained quickly. "I mean, I'd marry you in a second but it's not like it would be legal anyway because I'm wanted by the FBI and you don't even have a legal name and fuck legal anyways, we don't need that." He stopped babbling and gave her a nervous look.

She was quiet as she took the ring gingerly from him and twirled it around with the tips of her fingers. It was a silver band with tiny Enokian symbols etched all the way around. She recognized the symbol for love and the one for family, the rest a mystery she looked forward to unravelling. "You made it yourself," she breathed, her voice soft with stunned delight as she slipped it onto the fourth finger of her right hand.

Dean nodded. "Yeah, just like…"

"Like my dad did for my mom," she finished, her eyes fixing back on his. "Dean, it's beautiful."

"So are you," he grinned, leaning in for another kiss. She returned it with renewed fervor and the two were soon lost in each other again, lips moving against one another's and fingers twisting in each other's hair. When they finally pulled apart they were breathing heavily, lying facing each other on the same pillow. They lay smiling at each other in comfortable silence, Dean's fingers lightly running up and down the bare curve of her hips and Tasha twirling her new ring on her finger.

She finally sighed and gave him a thoughtful look. "So what do we do now?" she asked.

Dean gave her a lewd look.

"Not _right_   now," she scoffed, rolling her eyes. "I mean, do we start hunting again? Sam's gonna be fine and I doubt we can just hang out at Bobby's for the rest of our lives. I know you want to cut down on hunting when the twins come but that's like two years from now. So what do you want to do? Me, you, Sam...?"

Dean pursed his lips. He was fairly sure he could never completely walk away from hunting. He had been in the life since he was a child, as had Tasha. Neither of them could do normal, at least not cold turkey. Sam had tried it and failed so he was most likely still in the game. Dean was determined not to raise his kids in the hunting life; he just hadn't figured out how to make that transition yet.

"Well, Crowley's Purgatory plan may have been shot to Hell but he's way too dangerous to leave running loose," he told her. "I want him taken care of before the kids come."

"I'm with you on that one," Tasha agreed. "That fucker shot you."

"And locked you up for three days," Dean pointed out. "And threw Sam into Purgatory."

"Okay, so we go after Crowley," she said with a decisive nod. "But we deserve a vacation first. Just the two of us."

"Huh?"

"A vacation."

Dean gave her a blank look.

"Vaay-caay-tionnn," she repeated more slowly.

"You mean like a concert or taking a break for a week?" That was all the vacation Dean had ever had.

Tasha groaned. "No, dummy. I mean go somewhere warm and lie on the beach and take in the sights and hike in the mountains..."

Dean's expression was not overly eager.

"Make love in the sand..." Tasha continued.

That got his attention and his eyes brightened. "Okay, now I'm listening. Florida? Miami's got beaches. I haven't screwed you in Florida yet."

She laughed, slapping him playfully. "You jackass; always the gentleman, huh? No, I was thinking south of the border. Maybe visit some of the places I grew up."

Dean wrinkled his nose in trepidation. "Uh, borders are tricky for me and the Impala," he explained. "Always feds sniffing around at the crossings and I'm on a few lists."

"So we fly there."

"On a plane?!" His eyes shot open. "No way. I've been on two planes in my life and both times they almost crashed."

"You're afraid of flying? You? Big bad Dean Winchester afraid of an airplane?"

"Yeah yeah, don't rub it in."

She let him off the hook. "Alright, don't sweat it coz I have some contacts on fishing trawlers who don't mind stowaways for a small amount of cash. That's usually how I get there."

"Huh? On a boat? That's worse than a plane!"

Tasha rolled her eyes. "Jeez, well good thing our resident angel still has some mojo then. He can zap us there."

Dean laughed, his muscles relaxing now that air and sea travel were off the table. "Alright, I'll go with you. But I'm not wearing shorts; I don't do shorts."

Tasha cut him off with a delighted squeal. "Thank-you!" She grabbed his face and kissed him hard. "Thank you."

Dean grinned at her reaction. How bad could Mexico be? His sexy senorita in a bikini and all-you-can-drink Tequila? He might actually enjoy it. Sam was doing well and Cas was... well, Cas was a little off but he would be fine. Another apocalypse had been averted and things seemed peaceful. Maybe Dean Winchester could afford to take a vacation for once.

"Anything to make you happy, babe." He leaned over and kissed her softly again. "I love seeing you happy."

"You know, for someone who hates chick flick moments, you sure are good at them," she purred. "Did I ever tell you how much I love it when you open up to me?"

Dean decided that was enough of an estrogen display for one day. He rolled fully on top of her, nudging her thighs apart with his knee. "Oh yeah?" he said, his voice deep and husky. "Well, I think it's _your_   turn to open up to _me_ ** _."_** He began nibbling at her neck, grinding his hips against hers.

She giggled, growing breathless from his touch already. "Okay, there's the real Dean back."

"Yup, and he's raring and ready to go..."

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is the end of the Tasha Series. Hope you enjoyed!! I have other stories over on fanfiction.net if you are interested (same penname). Thanks for reading - hope I kept you entertained. :D


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